


There's A Crack In Everything

by FrangipaniFlower



Category: Homeland
Genre: Drama, F/M, Happy Ending, PTSD, Reunion, Seperation, Sex, alternative ending, angst and love, love and comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-10-27 06:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10803321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrangipaniFlower/pseuds/FrangipaniFlower
Summary: My alternative Ending for 6.12 and the months to follow. Because it made no fucking sense what we got on screen.Carrie knows a secret way out of the parking garage and is not willing to put the mission first. This time, she won't lose Quinn.CHAPTERS 7 IS NEW:The first three months after Ending II.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The birds they sang  
> at the break of day  
> Start again  
> I heard them say  
> Don't dwell on what  
> has passed away  
> or what is yet to be.
> 
> Ah the wars they will  
> be fought again  
> The holy dove  
> She will be caught again  
> bought and sold  
> and bought again  
> the dove is never free.
> 
> Ring the bells that still can ring  
> Forget your perfect offering  
> There is a crack in everything  
> That's how the light gets in.
> 
>  
> 
> We asked for signs  
> the signs were sent:  
> the birth betrayed  
> the marriage spent  
> Yeah the widowhood  
> of every government --  
> signs for all to see.
> 
> I can't run no more  
> with that lawless crowd  
> while the killers in high places  
> say their prayers out loud.  
> But they've summoned, they've summoned up  
> a thundercloud  
> and they're going to hear from me.
> 
> Ring the bells that still can ring  
> You can add up the parts  
> but you won't have the sum  
> You can strike up the march
> 
> There is no drum  
> Every heart, every heart  
> to love will come  
> but like a refugee.  
> Ring the bells that still can ring  
> Forget your perfect offering  
> There is a crack, a crack in everything
> 
> That's how the light gets in.  
> Ring the bells that still can ring  
> Forget your perfect offering  
> There is a crack, a crack in everything  
> That's how the light gets in.  
> That's how the light gets in.  
> That's how the light gets in.
> 
> (Leonard Cohen, Anthem)

_6.12, the two vans exploded, Carrie and Keane ran back into the hotel and tried to find another way out of the kill zone. They are in the elevator, the doors open and a gun is pointed at them. But it's Quinn. And here my story takes a over._

"Quinn. Thank God!"

"We gotta go. C'mon."

"Who's that?", Elizabeth was asking.

"Peter Quinn, you can trust him. He's-"

"I know you. Didn't expect to see you here."

She gave a small nod to Quinn who clearly felt uncomfortable with the situation.

"Quinn, the cars were a trap, there was a bomb, two cars, we weren't in them cause we broke the protocol and-"

"Carrie, we've no time. You sh-should've n-never fallen for this bullshit. Moving her out of here. That was the t-trap. And now, no word."

They were moving through the garage now towards the third armoured car, Quinn secured the area, two steps ahead of them, then Keane, Carrie one step behind her, shielding her against an attack from behind. Quinn's glock the only weapon they had. 

Carrie's mind had been on overdrive all morning and she couldn't shut it down now. A piece was missing. Dar's call. The cars. Emmons and Keane seperated. Saul in Keane's place. Probably dead now. Focus, Matthison, focus. Thomms saying that apple was with him. Damn it. She'd instinctly and instantly known that this had given them away. But who? How many? They would've figured out by now that Keane's body was not among the debris, even without Thomms' confirmation. The coup failed. The need for a scapegoat. Dar had said that. And had been fucking right.

"Quinn."

"Get into the car."

"No. Quinn. Wait. Just _think_. Just _one_ second."

She saw she got through to him. He was reluctant. But _there_. Keane too.

"The attack failed. Elizabeth was the target and is still alive. There is no chance for a second strike because there's no chance to cover it up. They're not after her. Not anymore", she spoke quickly, with a keen voice, Quinn knew that version of her too well, and apparently she read something in his face and tried to slow down, "what they _need_ now is a scapegoat. Someone they can take out, preferably dead, whom they can frame for treason, murder, terror."

Quinn's eyes rested on her face and gave nothing. She saw his jaw clenching, forgot about Elizabeth for a moment, and then he pursed his lips, a brief flicker in his eyes and the moment was gone.

"Right. But they'll kill her with his weapon first. Operation security. Always."

"Mustn't be you. Could be me either."

"R-right", and this was Quinn again, an exasperated kind of snort and unspoken _we both know it's me_ and then he turned to Elizabeth.

"Shut down y-your-", and a nod to her phone and then to Keane, "Ma'am, you heard her. She's right. You-"

"You're not suggesting that I walk out there now."

"Quinn. If we get into this car and drive out there, we'll all die. Whoever is behind the wheel goes first, we'll drive into an army of sharp sh-, fuck, you _knew_ that, you-"

"Get into the f-fucking car unless you have a b-better idea. You heard her. She w-won't w-walk up there."

_A better idea._

"Gotta hurry Carrie. T-time's running. We've Deltas on our heals."

_Trapped. Escape route blocked. Unless-_

"There's a secret escape route. Track 61. Service elevator to the main ballroom. Quick. There's a secret elevator and staircase. C'mon. That's our chance."

"You sure?"

"It's the best shot we have. Can't lose anything if it's not there but win a lot if we find it."

"It's true", Keane backed Carrie, "Emmons got a tour before we took quarters here. Ballroom, 5th floor."

Quinn opened the door of the van and reached under the passenger seat, producing a gun and handing it to Carrie. 

"Check the magazine."

"Seventeen", Carrie confirmed when she clicked the ammo clip back in and checked the security switch.

"Good. I have seventeen and two spare clips. Help me with the silencer."

Carrie took his weapon from him and he pulled the silencer out of his right pocket.

While she assembled it with quick movements his hand went back into the pocket.

"Here. The spares. Y-you can change them f-faster. C-count your shots", their eyes met and then Quinn gave a short nod, "c'mon. Stay behind me."

They kept themselves close to the back wall of the garage as they moved away from the secret service car. The way was longer but would bring them out of sight from the main staircase entrance fastest.

They'd almost reached the entrance to the service staircase at the far end when they heard a sound. Carrie froze but kept moving, she saw Quinn's back straightening, he heard it too, three more steps, the door did open silently, Keane in, Carrie too. Quinn slipped in behind her, leaning against the wall and trying to see how many they were.

Two so far.

"I'll take them. I'll move diagonally and try to get the first one before they know I'm there. Y-you have axis for the other one then in case I f-fail. Don't shoot if you can avoid it you have no s-silencer and they have a-audio", and then to Keane, "stay behind her. Whatever happens, she'll get you out."

And then he was gone and it was too late to say anything as this would've given away the small advantage they had. 

_Focus Mathison._

The Deltas were rounding and checking the car, opened the doors and then the trunk. Carrie could see Quinn approaching from the diagonal, just a few steps closer, his marksmanship had always been fucking accurate, even the protester he'd just shot in the shoulder, Carrie forced herself to stop thinking and focus on her breathing, to shoot between heartbeats if necessary.

Two tschiks.

He was moving faster now, they were both down. Tschik tschik again, no other sound.

"Team Bravo", crackled the radio, "confirm your position."

Carrie saw Quinn freezing for a long second.

Then he bent down and took the mouthpiece.

"Team Bravo. Basement parking. Target's not here. Moving to her suite now." 

"Confirmed, Team Bravo."

_Good Quinn. Well done. No stutter._

"Why did he kill them?", Elizabeth's voice was unsteady.

"Because the first thing they'd checked would have been the staircases. They would have killed him. And maybe you and me. We had the advantage of surprise on our side here."

Quinn came back, his face a stoic mask, his eyes dark.

_Two more. I did that to him. Two more._

"That b-bought us time. 15 max. Let's go."

He didn't look at her.

They climbed the stairs, Quinn first, then Elizabeth, then Carrie. 

On the fifth floor, Quinn stopped, waiting for Carrie to open the door so he didn't have to put his weapon away.

The corridor was long and deserted. Thank God.

Quinn shot four times with the silencer around the lock, and then he could open the large wing doors to the ballroom.

"What n-now?"

But Carrie already rushed to the service area hidden behind a foldable wall and a heavy curtain at the back of the large room.

A minute later she found the freight elevator and tried the doors, unlocked, good.

Quinn saw her reemerging from his spot next to the door and he saw the glimpse of hope in her eyes.

"C'mon", he indicated Keane to move, wondering how much time they had before the woman's shock would paralyze her.

But she pulled herself together, once more and followed his order.

The elevator was enormous, thirty feet long and fifteen feet wide with large doors.

"Fuck, w-what a giant."

"Roosevelt's armoured limo was transported in here. There's a street level exit which you need a key for and we go to the so called emergency exit."

Carrie pressed the button and the elevator started moving with a creaking sound.

"How come you knew about this?", Elizabeth broke the silence as they moved downwards, floor by floor.

"My father", Quinn raised his head as Carrie started to talk, "it was one of the stories he loved to tell. His father was a soldier. He was here when Roosevelt came here in 1944 during his campaign. They were trying to cover up his impediments from his polio infection. The tracks are connected with the Central Station. His train was pulled in here, he was in his armoured car and was brought inside the elevator in the car. No one expect his closest staff was allowed during the set up in the ballroom, journalists were only allowed in after he'd positioned himself behind the speaker's table. For decades nobody spoke about it anymore. But apparently Bush used it once. My father always dreamt of coming here one day. It's one of those stories you just can't forget. But it was never open to public. He used to joke, after I joined the CIA, that I maybe good get a security clearance high enough to bring him here."

"You should. When this is over", Elizabeth started.

"I can't ", Carrie simply said, looking to the floor.

"He died a f-few years ago", Quinn answered for her, the memory of that day suddenly heavy between them.

The elevator made a sudden screach, the large cabin shook, bucked and then stood still. It was Carrie who moved the large lever to _open_ , Quinn next to her with his gun pointing to the opening which slowly got wider.

It was pitch dark. Humid and cold. A distant rush, maybe the traffic above their heads. A sudden flash of light, Carrie felt the panic creeping in a second before she couldn't breath anymore, Berlin, all those people, Quinn, just seconds later and it would be too late, a screaching sound and then it was dark again and all she felt was the rush of her own blood drumming in her ears.

"Damn it Carrie", she heard Quinn's voice, distant but calm, "that's probably the Northern Line. An o-opening, just three feet w-wide. O-our t-tracks g-go north. C-central station."

"So she was right." Keane's voice, like from underwater.

"Carrie?", Quinn again, "Carrie, breathe", and then to Keane, "here, light, now", and then Elizabeth switched on the torch function on Quinn's phone.

Carrie's eyes were wide open, staring at Quinn, they'd never spoken about her run through the tunnel in Berlin, and so he just briefly touched her shoulder.

"Y-you 'kay?"

"Yeah", she shuddered involuntarily, still trying to calm her breath, "I am."

His eyes rested for a moment on her face, he was going to say something but then didn't.

Switching on her phone she used the torch too and slowly they moved along the tracks until they found a light switch close to a dusty train car, covered with dust and spider webs. The light bulb gave a dim light and revealed a scenery from another century. Train tracks going north, an opening in the floor revealing a iron ladder leading further down and a train car, old and equally dirt covered but _real_. 

"Rob said it's still the armoured carriage Roosevelt used", Elizabeth broke the reverend silence.

"Christ", Carrie exhaled and stepped closer, attempting to round the train.

"W-wait a sec."

Quinn limped back to the elevator and checked the door to the staircase to the left. Closed, locked and massive steel.

He stepped into the elevator and shot into the control unit, sparks emitted and then silence again.

"Fuck Quinn, we don't need a fire down here."

"W-what we d-don't need is ten Deltas. If y-your Dad knew this and her g-guy chances are o-others do too. McC-Clendon. Door locked, th-thing broken, n-no w-way we made it here. They w-won't come after us."

Quinn was right. Taking a calculated risk, as always. But this had bought them hours. And an electric shock would have only hit him. As always.

Carrie swallowed against the emotions building up in her throat, and stepped behind the waggon. Old but intact. Dust and rust and the ravages of time.

_Time and tide stop for no man._

When she came back to the front she saw Quinn leaning with his back against the wall. Elizabeth sat on an old stool, looking defeated. She was trembling.

"Take my coat. You're in shock. Elizabeth, do you hear me? Look at me. The worst is behind us. You are okay. Listen to me. Quinn, I need- fuck, let's lie her down, here take my coat as a pillow, Elizabeth, we'll lower you to the floor, feet up here, yes-"

"M-my coat, here."

Carrie looked up and saw a blood stain on his shoulder but it didn't connect.

"See, this is your blanket, keep your feet up here, you'll be fine, just a few minutes and you'll feel better."

Carrie could see that Elizabeth was trying to force herself to focus and a wave of pity ran through her.

"You did very well. We're safe here."

"Carrie."

Quinn had moved a few steps away, Carrie raised and followed him.

"We're not safe."

"Shit Quinn, think I don't know that? What do you want me to tell her? That there might be a stampede beating her to death the minute she shows her face again in the daylight? We don't know that."

"What _do_ we know?"

"It's orchestrated. McClendon probably. Dar maybe. Although I think he didn't know how it would end. And a few more. Not Saul. Brett O'Keefe. But that doesn't matter know. We can't stay here forever. But we can't bring Elizabeth out of here through Central Station's main hall."

"This is w-where this goes? No other exit?"

"There is a street exit somewhere on 49th, I think. But that would be locked and we have no idea what's going on outside."

"You stay with her. I'll go and get - someone."

He was about to turn away, _no good bye_ , and something in his movement, the way he held his shoulder, made her finally realize what she'd seen a few minutes ago.

"Wait."

"W-what?"

"What's that? You're shot? When?"

"It's nothing."

"Let me see."

Quinn just gave her a silent stare, the dim light of the lamp reflecting in his eyes.

"After Astrid died. Hit the bone, didn't go in. Just tissue damage. I was under w-water."

"Did you get that che-, of course you didn't. Cleaned it?"

"I'm fine."

"I know. You're always fine. Fuck, Quinn, you are _not_. This is what we gonna do: I'll go. You and Elizabeth wait in that train. It's armoured steel. I doubt anyone will come after us here but they come with a thermal camera they won't be able to make you. Chances are they don't come at all or don't search the waggon. I'll be back. As soon as I can. Anything I can use against Dar to make him cooperate?"

"Y-you k-know why Haqqani c-came off the kill list?"

"Yeah."

"You can use that. But I g-guess he'll co-operate without."

There was a moment silence between them before Quinn turned and went back to Elizabeth. It took them a moment to install her and Quinn in the old waggon, but she was feeling better again, still pale and silent, but not shaking anymore.

"Quinn's gonna stay with you. I'll check the situation and come back with reinforcement."

"Whom can we trust?"

"My friend Max. Two journalists I know. Dar."

"Dar?", Elizabeth took a sharp breath.

"Without his call we'd driven right into the trap. Whatever his business was, _this_ wasn't his plan. He'll help to save his ass. Which doesn't mean you can't make him pay."

"God. Friend and foe. Changes quickly."

"W-welcome to the w-world of  
politics."

"How long do we wait for you Carrie, if you don't come back?"

"Does your phone have a signal?"

"No."

"Six hours. It's not far but we might have to wait for the situation too  
calm down before I can come back."

"Thank you, Carrie."

Elizabeth handed Carrie her coat and then retreated to the the back of the waggon.

"Carrie. D-discard your sim card at Central St-station. Get a new one there. Only tell Dar about the station here if you're absolutely s-sure he'll help you. And Carrie?"

"Yeah."

"This is not B-Berlin. You c-can do this. Just b-breathe if it happens again."

She couldn't see his eyes in the near darkness, he was a dark shadow, his frame blocking the way out.

 _This might be the last time. So now. Or never._  

"Quinn. Promise me to wait. Promise me not to die. Swear you'll wait for  
me. Don't run away. Not this time."

And with that he felt her arms around him and a kiss at the corner of his mouth, Carrie felt his hand on her back, a reflex maybe, and held onto him a second longer, taking in his scent, his warmth, just a second longer.

"I love you, Quinn. Wait for me", she whispered and let go of him and jumped from the waggon before he could process or answer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carrie tries to get help while Quinn and Elizabeth stay behind in the hidden station and Quinn tries to deal with Carrie's last words to him - _I love you. Wait for me._

And then she was gone, the darkness swallowed her and then she rounded the corner of the waggon and he couldn't even see her shadow anymore.

_I love you._

He once had written these words, past tense though, to her.

_I loved you. Yours for always now._

_Had she ever read them?_

He remembered the man he'd been, who once had been hopeful, for just a few hours, a day and a night. He hadn't revisited that memory for a very long time.

And he remembered Dar's words.

And very blurry memories of her face, tired, exhausted, sad, that was when he was in the first hospital.

And much more since then. Their fights, her relentless annoying presence, his anger, her defeated look, his hate, and yet death hadn't come - and somehow he hadn't managed to _make_ him come although he knew so many ways - and she was still there. Took him in the basement.

_And now this._

Anger was rising in his chest. She knew he couldn't leave now and this was what it was about. Carrie pulling his strings and knowing he'd follow.

\--------------

It was dark and she needed to save her battery in case someone would come after her before she could get a new one. Once her eyes got used to the darkness it got better. She trailed her left hand along the wall and kept her feet left to the tracks, trying not to stumble.

She moved slowly but at a steady pace, gun in her right, security switch already off, listening to the distant sounds of trains and a swelling noise.

She didn't allow her mind to wander or her heart to feel and fear, just focus.

\---------------

Quinn sighed and closed the waggon door before he moved further inside and sat against the wall with a groan.

"We should s-save the b-batteries. You okay w-with darkness?"

"Could it get any darker?"

He didn't answer and doubted that she would want to hear an answer.

_But yes, it could._

"Carrie was in Berlin too, wasn't she?"

"Yeah."

"So she brought you home?"

"This is n-not home."

"So she hauled you here."

"Doesn't matter. I'm here."

"Sure. And not always the end justifies the means. That's what you're thinking, right?"

"Maybe. Doesn't matter."

"She never speaks about Berlin."

Quinn snorted a bitter laugh.

"What's there to speak about?"

"You got another chance", he heard the woman saying after a beat, "others didn't."

\----------------

Carrie noticed the distant sounds getting louder, the air got noticeably less humid and mouldy and around a long curve she sensed a shine of light. She hoped for the station to be crowded, with commuters, protesters, the more the better, so she could climb the platform unnoticed and mix into the crowd.

She waited, pressed against the wall, when she could see the entrance into the station from a distance. 750.000 people on a normal day, chances were it might be more today. Grand Central _Terminal_ , no through traffic. Her father had been fascinated by the large building, the largest station in the world. She didn't know why she had to think about the tennis court just now, and the starry mural, 2.500 stars on the vaulted ceiling. She'd wait for the next train to roll into the station and then use the time of the passengers' boarding it to climb on the platform.

\--------------------

Quinn's shoulder hurt. That wasn't new. It was just another source of pain in the endless shitshow ever since Berlin.

So he leant his head back against the wall and tried to adjust his arm in his lap to minimize the strain to the hurt muscle.

"You should get that checked. Once we're out."

"Carrie t-told you?"

"No, she didn't. It's just obvious that you're in pain."

"N-nothing n-new here."

They fell silent for a while, Elizabeth lost in thoughts, Quinn's mind still trying to rationalize what just had happened.

Carrie's breath on his skin. Carrie's voice saying those words. Every four to five minutes a train of the Northern line screeched along the rails, casting a shadow over the abandoned tracks they couldn't see from their position. 

But he remembered the sound and the panic in Carrie's eyes. He'd never asked her how she'd come out of Berlin. How she felt. What it did with her.

First, his brain hadn't formed any thoughts. Then, he'd missed the words. And next, they'd been too far apart, albeit she came every day. And now - now it was too late.

"C-can I ask you s-something?"

"Sure."

"F-Franny. W-what happened after-?"

"She's in foster care as far as I know."

"F-foster c-care? B-because-?"

"Of the incidents at Carrie's house? And you? No. That was just a welcome pretense. Dar Adal. To add pressure on both Carrie and me."

_Franny. Foster care._

"D-Dar."

"Yes. Dar Adal. He's not afraid to use thumbscrews, let's put it that way."

"W-what's he hav-having against you?"

"You don't watch much news, do you?", Elizabeth asked with genuine surprise in her voice.

"N-not recently. No."

"Let's just say he felt endangered by me and my view of the world, and your intelligence _community_ in particular."

"It's not _my_ c-comm-club."

"Can one ever leave that circle? Can _you_ ever leave that behind?"

"That's a f-fucking good question."

"So what's he having against you. Why were you convinced that they'd kill you instead of me?"

"N-not _instead_. B-bonus. T-two for the p-price of one. T-three maybe. A s-sc-, someone to blame."

"A scapegoat."

"Yeah. That."

"Why you?"

"P-perfect offering. F-fucked enough. C-capable enough to have p-planned a t-terror attack."

"So you think they planned that long ago? Today's set up?"

"Yeah. Weeks. M-maybe months. M-maybe n-not my inv- role. But the thing itself."

"How do you know that?"

"B-been there, done that. Long."

"With Carrie."

"Among others."

"I hadn't expected to see you here."

"I had other p-plans."

"But Carrie-"

"Carrie." It was meant to cut her off, to finish that conversation but hearing himself saying that name again just after Carrie's goodbye touched a chord he hadn't touched for quite a while.

\------------

She almost managed to get there unnoticed. People were busy walking, talking, checking their phones, eager to board the train to Connecticut. 

But then a young man, in his early twenties, college student maybe, bent down to tie his shoelace and looked right into her eyes.

"My phone. It fell next to the tracks", Carrie waved with her phone.

"Let me help you. You really shouldn't- c'mere", and he gave her his hand and pulled her up to the platform edge.

Carrie saw a conductor turning their way, pulled away her hand, muttered a _thank you_ and walked away, fighting the urge to run. Soon she blended into the crowd in the main hall, pulled her beanie from her coat pocket and covered her hair with it.

She opened her phone, trying to keep it hidden from the CCTV cameras' eyes and when she felt the SIM card in her hand she synched her steps with the man ahead of her and carefully but quickly dropped it in his coat pocket. She was lucky. He was heading to the platform, apparently trying to catch a train. So in case anyone would trace her, they'd follow her card through the state just to find out it wasn't her card anymore.

She left the station, trying to blend in into the crowd, protestors, students, office workers, police men, it was still a dangerous mix out there, she thought as she entered a small asian-run store with a fake apple sign in the window.

As soon as she had her phone she started to dial Max number.

"Yeah?"

"Max. It's me."

"God, where are you? Saul said you weren't in the car but-"

"Saul? You spoke to Saul?"

"Yes. An hour ago. He came out off it. Not well. But in one piece. No one else did. Fuck Carrie. Where are you?"

"Listen Max. I, we, need your help."

"Figured that. Where?"

"Can't tell."

Max sighed and Carrie waited.

"That icecream place from a while ago? Remember that? Meet me there."

"Max? Be careful. I have no idea who's behind this."

"I do. See you soon."

\------------------

Elizabeth was silent for a long while. Minutes turned into an hour, maybe longer even. Quinn once had had the ability to quantity the seconds, minutes and hours passed exactly, but that was lost too. He was listening to the distinct but distant sound pattern of the underground network, trying to catch anything unusual in case anyone would come after them. This way he could free his mind from Carrie. Or at least compartmentalize her elsewhere. 

Elizabeth apparently couldn't let go so easily.

"Are you mad at Carrie? That she brought you here?"

Quinn scoffed a laugh.

"Mad?"

"Yes."

"I'm one of f-few knowing this secret p-place now so...", Quinn tried to deflect.

"I bet there might have been a tour guide who could have brought you here."

"C-Carrie- that's who she is."

"She said she wanted a different life. This here isn't her fault. Life is not just our own choices. Life is not just a logically consistent sequence of events and consequences."

"A almost always l-leads to B. And you're responsible. For the choices you make. Alone."

"That's a harsh standpoint. And only works if you don't have any ties, relationships, friends, family. Humans are made to be in relationships and networks. That makes us vulnerable. And human. But that contradicts your A to B-theory as it multiplies the possibilities by thousands. You can't prepare for what life throws at you. And you can't be held responsible for each and everything all the time. Sometimes things happen which weren't your choice and you did all you could to prevent them and still they happen. This wasn't Carrie's choice. Neither was it mine."

"So that l-leaves me?"

"No. That leaves life sometimes sucks. And all you can do is get up and try again."

"That's what you g-gonna do? G-get up and t-try again?"

"I've been through worse."

He knew that this was true. He'd seen the pictures and heard the words outside, stirring memories from another life long time ago.

"Your son-, he d-died for his c-comrades."

Quinn heard the woman's voice breaking when she answered.

"How would you know?"

"I was t-there. Not during th-that m-min- moment. But s-same base. Saw the v-video, s-spoke to the g-guys. McClendon too."

"Would you testify that?"

"N-nobody g-gives a shit about what I say. People choose their own t-truth. But you should know."

Elizabeth's _thank you_ was the last spoken word for the following hours.

\---------------

It took long. Too long.

Almost five hours until she'd spoken to Max, and then Saul, who'd sent her a young operative named Nate, saying she could trust him, and had directed her to two FBI agents. She'd pondered long if she should involve Dar and in the end she decided she needed him. It wasn't that she could be picky, the list of Elisabeth's allies was shockingly short. They would need him to get access to the hotel.

The last person on her list was Otto. Otto who wasn't stateside but was friends with the two New York Times Journalists he'd introduced her to a few weeks ago.

Dar wasn't amused that she brought them in but she cut him off, saying she wouldn't go alone with him anywhere, and asked him to hand his phone to the FBI agent.

Time passed so slowly, it took ages to get it all done, and yet the hours passed too quickly.

_Quinn. Promise me to wait. Promise me not to die. Swear you'll wait for me. Don't run away. Not this time. I love you, Quinn. Wait for me. — will he wait? Will he still be there?_

It's almost six hours that she left Quinn and Elizabeth behind when they reach the hotel again and got on site access after long minutes.

And it takes about fifteen minutes before there was a member of the management providing a key to the staircase leading into the hidden basement.

\----------------

"S-six hours. W-we leave."

"Now?"

"Yeah."

"Shouldn't we wait for Carrie to contact us?"

"We don't kn-know wh-where she is, i-if she got arrested or wo-worse, s-six hours, s-so we leave."

Elizabeth sighed but got up, hesitant and slow.

"You can go and I'll wait here alone."

"N-no."

"Where would we go?"

"To the s-station. O-only w-way out."

_Quinn. Promise me to wait. Promise me not to die. Swear you'll wait for me. Don't run away. Not this time. I love you, Quinn. Wait for me. – Fuck._

Suddenly it was there again. Stuck in his head. The sensation of her mouth on his skin so real, the feeling of her body pressed into his for a few long seconds.

_Wait for me._

Nobody had come after them for hours. Bringing Elizabeth back into public alone without backup wasn't the best plan either. But if Carrie hadn't made it nobody would know where they were. He'd prefer to go alone. But if _he_ wouldn't make it the president would be all alone and that would minimize her chances to retreat safely to zero. Bringing her back to the light of the day via the busiest station in the world was a fucked up idea to begin with but it wasn't that he had many options at hand.

So they started their walk along the rails into the darkness, away from the hotel's secret basement station. Walking on the small stretch of gravel was difficult and Quinn was well aware that they'd make a fucking accessible target for anyone coming from either direction along the tracks. Still he chose to go next to Elizabeth, telling her to keep herself very close to the wall on her left side so he could shield her other side and had is shooting arm free, being able to cover 180 degrees. But chances were bad, really bad, in case someone was sent after them with a kill order.

\-------------------

Carrie wished she could just launch herself through the door and hadn't to wait for the keys to be tested, the heavy door to be opened and everyone getting through it.

She knew they were gone the second she called their names. 

It had taken her six hours and twelve minutes to come back. Twelve minutes. And they were gone.

_Fuck you Quinn. Just fuck you._

"I'll go after them. It took me almost thirty minutes to get there. Quinn's slower. I'll find him."

It didn't even register to her that she used the singular.

Just Dar's "Oh, who cares about the president elect, right?" stuck with her when she made her way into the tunnel the second time. 

She felt her heart beating, hammering in her chest and her ears, knowing she had to be fast now.

Twenty minutes. Maybe twentyfive.

It took her eighteen minutes to catch up with them. She heard their steps and knew Quinn would here her soon too so she called his name, making her presence known.

"Quinn."

She reached them and he turned. Elizabeth too. An agent had followed her, Max of course, one of the journalists too, someone was switching on a torch and suddenly she could see him, looking at her and then looking down before her eyes could meet his.

"Peter."

Carrie saw Quinn flinch, just the briefest moment and then straighting his back. One FBI officer was about to bring Elizabeth back through the tunnel, she turned and looked at her and then at Quinn and then asked her to come.

Carrie wished for a moment alone with Quinn but now it was Dar who approached him.

"Peter. Let's leave. Debrief's soon. You might wanna get some rest then. C'mon."

"Quinn."

Her own voice.

"Peter. You coming?"

 

"Sir, you are arrested for treason, seditous conspiracy, advocating overthrow of government, subversive activities, murder and attempted murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you."

"I guess financial means won't be the problem", Elizabeth said, her eyes resting on Dar, "I told you you'd remember the moment. Even if I had no idea then what a treacherous bastard you really are.

"This is ridiculous", Dar hissed, his eyes locked with Elizabeth's.

Carrie watched as Dar was getting arrested, not even arguing but casting a long glance towards Elizabeth before he adressed Quinn again.

"Peter. Consider what I said. And don't forget to send David my greetings. This should be the time, finally."

Carrie couldn't make sense out of what he said, just felt it probably wouldn't be any good.

And when she turned towards Quinn he'd already turned away without a word, from her and from the scenery unfolding in front of their eyes - and slowly started walking towards the Central Station.

"Carrie", it's Elizabeth, "you coming?"

_Wait for me Quinn._

A long moment. Two maybe.

"No. I'm not. Max is with you. And the FBI. I'll see you in a day or two."

"Ma'am, we'll need your statement."

"We came down here, hid in the waggon, I went for help. That's my statement. I'll file a report tomorrow."

"Ma'am."

"Let her go. She'll be around tomorrow", Elizabeth again, "I guess we've got enough mess to work through for more than just a day or two."

A few moments later they were all gone, moving back deeper into the tunnel.

"Quinn," Carrie hurried to follow him, "Quinn. Wait."

"What?"

He didn't stop, slowly kept moving and Carrie felt a pit in stomach opening.

"Where are you going?"

"What d-does it look like? S-station."

"Why?"

"W-why? Because I'm n-not r-running into d-deltas or f-feds who m-might just wait f-for me."

"But-"

"N-no."

"So station. And then? Damn it Quinn. Can you please stop a second?"

"For w-what Carrie?"

But he stopped, finally.

The light was dim, the air was crisp and humid and suddenly she felt this was the last chance she'd ever get and it wasn't even a real chance, just their fucked up reality.

But she closed the distance between them, put her arms around his neck and pulled him down, against her mouth and kissed him.

It was not a tender kiss and the surge of anger he felt surprised him in its intensity and yet he couldn't break away but pulled her close, his hand at the back of her nape, pressing her against his body.

He was kissing her harder and deeper, his tongue in her mouth now, hating himself for his own weakness and Carrie for using _this_ against him, but couldn't stop.

Carrie moaned against his mouth and bit his lower lip, her hands invading under his sweater, searching and finding naked skin, and he held her around her waist and turned her around.

She was backed up against the wall now, his body pressed her against the humid brickstones and he sucked her tongue into his mouth while holding her nape in a firm grip. 

Carrie pulled him against her - one hand roaming up his back now, searing into his memory, the other hand in his hair to keep him close - and he felt her against his pelvis, her crotch against his hard dick, her small frame caught between him and the wall, deliberately rolling her hips, too slow, making him ache for more, here and now.

She pulled back, just a little, and then she bit him again, her hand leaving his hair and down at his ass now, her touch fueling his anger and want.

So many years, being broken, lost and tortured and still he couldn't shake it off. A snap with her fingers and he was back to longing and aching. Never had been elsewhere, probably.

He pushed his hand under the hem of her shirt, his hand on her skin rougher than necessary, without breaking that kiss, and felt the heat of her torso and the drum of her pulse.

There was no gentleness, no reverence in his touch, and when he started kneading her breast she gasped and let a short whimper.

But she didn't pull away but pressed him closer, her fingernails scratching his shoulderblade while she moved her other hand in the back of his pants, and he ground himself into her and sucked at the delicate skin of her neck.

He felt her hand leaving his back, on his abdomen now but then moving up again, her fingers rubbing over his nipple. She was kneading his ass now, canting her hips, he kissed her deeper, his hand under the cup of her bra now, roughly kneading the small roundness.

A hot flash of pain radiated through him and made him flinch, just for a fraction of a second, when the tips of her fingers grazed over his gunshot wound.

But enough to make her stop. 

Breathing heavily he pressed his forehead against hers, fighting the wave of nausea and pain, and the _need_.

"Quinn", her voice was breaking but she didn't pull back and neither did he.

He felt her fingers tracing over his wound again, his hand now around her arm, not knowing whether he was going to hold her close or to push her away.

But Carrie detached, slowly, and made that choice for him, by removing her hands.

Her hand came up to touch his face but he turned away.

"Quinn", she stepped away from the wall, "I-"

"Don't."

He knew she was crying now, even without seeing her face.

"Just d-don't Carrie."

Carrie took a deep breath and stepped away, her finger tipps ghosting over the back of his hand for a split of a second.

"L-let's go. I'll bring you home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you who are still here and read, comment, leave kudos or write fics - it means a lot.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night after the assassination attempt and the escape through the tunnel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Zeffy.

It was evening when they arrived at Carrie's house.

There had been a very awkward moment when they'd reached the station and Quinn hadn't been able to climb up on the platform alone, at least not fast enough to not to risk unwanted attention, so Carrie had reached out and offered her hand - which he'd accepted after a beat, without giving a second of eye contact.

They'd left the station and had made their way through the city, changing taxis three times, having a cup of coffee in a coffee shop with a TV with the news in the backroom near the bathrooms and finally a short detour to a _guy_ Carrie knew through via her refugee project. Carrie had insisted on seeing a doctor and having his shoulder wound properly cleaned and bandaged. So he'd ended up behind a thin curtain in a community health centre which was already closed for the night, Carrie waiting on the other side, and a doctor in his mid fourties had helped him to peel of his shirt before he had cleaned the wound and had administered a tetanus shot as well as a high dose of Penicillin to prevent gas gangrene. 

The wound didn't look good. Even he had to admit that. It was covered with a antibiotics-infused gauze pad now and he had antibiotics as supplies for the upcoming couple of days, and the stern advise to change the bandage every day.

Carrie had wanted to pay but the man had refused any payment but had asked them to forget about the visit - and so would he himself, he'd promised.

It had always amazed him how she made people do what she wanted - being the beneficiary made no difference.

They didn't speak while having a sandwich in a corner store - again Carrie had insisted - and neither did they during the taxi ride to Brooklyn. 

Carrie wondered if there was anything left she could say or do to bridge the gaping void between them, but when she looked at him he stared at the headrest in front of him, his features tense. She briefly considered touching his arm but she sat to his left side and his hand lay limb in his lap. Looking at it made her swallow around the lump in her throat and so she turned her head and stared into the darkness and the rain, trying to mask her tears.

Quinn had to admit that his non-reluctance to have that wound checked probably was an indicator for how fucked and tired he was. 

When Carrie finally turned her head and stopped scrutinizing him he allowed himself to lean back for a moment. The pain meds would kick in soon, he'd refused the morphium shot but with the painkillers he had taken it was better than any of the last days.

_Carrie._

Next to him. Just in inches away. She hadn't talked to him since they'd arrived at the small clinic. These moments down in the tunnel, holding her, breathing her in, almost- good God.

He fought against that train of thought and yet it didn't change a thing. He'd wanted this for so long and now -

He had the passport. No access to the money yet but he could deal with that. 

They arrived at Carrie's house and he wasn't surprised to see a new security system. 

_Good, Max_.

Still he went inside a step ahead of Carrie, checking all floors.

"Why would they come here? It's done."

"C-cause w-we don't know that. If it's n-not just McClendon but more generals it's not d-done. Y-you shouldn't stay here."

He saw her realizing what his words meant, a _you_ and not a _we_ , and it surprised him how much it stung to see her eyes filling with tears.

"If they were still after _us_ they'd be here, waiting. I'm not going anywere, not tonight. I am not."

She was standing in the middle of her living room while he checked the appartment across the road through the windows and he heard the defeated tone in her voice. But he couldn't take that now. So he left, downstairs to the basement appartment, without a real plan what was going to happen now.

He'd known it would be hard. But _how_ hard surprised him.

Carrie saw him leaving through that door down to the basement and it felt like he was cutting a lifeline, deliberately cementing that despite what they'd shared during the last 36 hours there still was no _us_. 

And now he was going to leave.

_Don't run away. Not this time._

And yet this was exactly what he was going to do. She couldn't fight it anymore. She'd offered all she had - and it hadn't been enough. 

_How could it ever be enough? After all I did to him? After all I allowed to happen? So this is it._

During all these months she'd always thought this moment would come, sooner or later, that one morning he would be gone and she wouldn't able to find him. Not at the whore house, not in the hospital's basement smoking God knows what, not in her basement listening to torrents of hate pouring into the room out of the radio. One morning he'd be gone and she'd be alone. And she knew he wouldn't come back to the surface of earth this time. Not coming back nearly three years later, the same and yet a changed man. 

_This_ was what had hold her back, she realized, the fear to lose him _again_. That was why she never had answered his question. 

_Why?_

But now, as the moment had come, she couldn't even fight anymore. This was how it was going to end.

She stepped into her bathroom, she didn't remember making her way inside her bedroom, but here she was. So she turned on the spray, as hot as possible, and slipped out of her clothes, hoping the soothing rhythm of the water would ease some of the pain curling behind her eyes.

Quinn heard her steps, the floorboards were squeaking above his head and he expected her to show up downstairs any second, starting an argument, asking him to explain himself, to stay, to help with the coming investigation. His leaving was her defeat. And that's why she hadn't let it happen. 

_Guilt. Penance, maybe. Denial, for sure._

And to be honest, albeit he'd pondered with the thought from the very moment his fucked up synapses had gained enough power again to fire impulses back and forth - he was still here. Hadn't left. Had even moved in here. Had _waited_ for her visits. Had seen her face while Justine had sucked his cock, while Clarice had been kneading and stroking him and her fake moanings had been making him angry and sad. And he had never managed to give up and give in into the temptation to finally, fucking finally, end it, finish Bibi's _job_.

Had _hoped_.

Because of _her_.

_Well, what do they say? Hope dies last._

He sat for a moment, his eyes adjusting to the light he'd switched on, listening to Carrie's steps.

_So this is it._

No fight. No showdown. Just silence. The calm after the storm.

He got up again and undressed, he was overdue for a shower. 

Afterwards he dressed again in the jeans and boots Astrid had brought with her. She'd kept them since Islamabad. 

_Astrid_.

Quinn went to the small chest of drawers. It wasn't that he had much belongings which were worth to keep. 

Honestly - there wasn't anything but the book and the few photos. He hadn't looked at these for months. In therapy they'd told him he was _fortunate_ because his autobiographical memory wasn't affected. He wasn't so sure about it. Sometimes the endless sleepless hours at night were the worst, when it all came back.

_Julia. John. Carrie._

The photo he'd taken from her sister's writing desk when he'd gotten his jacket out of the improvised wardrobe in her study at the night of the wake. Following a sudden impulse, so sure that moment that Carrie would laugh about it should she ever learn. He'd looked at that photo later that night, and had remembered how she'd looked at him just the second before they'd kissed.

Never again he'd seen her like this. Not until she'd found him talking with Franny in the little one's room. For a brief second he'd thought- 

Quinn sighed, took the book - once a present from Julia, long before John was born - and stowed it in his parka's outer pocket, right next to his new passport.

He'd change his identity again as soon as he was going to arrive in Germany, the thought of Dar being able to trace him made him sick.

And with that he left the small apartment, his chest aching in anticipation of what was next. He left his parka on a stool next to the front door and took the main staircase, his brain supplying the memory of Franny crawling up and down the stairs. 

The house was silent now, she wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. So he made his way back to the stairs, thinking she might be in her room.

But a shine of light directed him to Franny's room, the street latern casting rays of light through the open curtain, painting a pattern of shadows on the floor and walls.

There she was. 

She sat on Franny's bed, her knees pulled up and her head back against the white headpiece, one hand clenched around the neck of the little stuffed bunny. Quinn saw the tears on her cheeks.

_Fucking ouch, asshole. ___

__"You're still here", Carrie said quietly._ _

__"Yeah."_ _

__He moved slowly from his position next to the door into the room, hesitated a moment but then clumsily sat at the edge of the bed, forcing himself to look at her._ _

__"W-wanna tell me what happened with her?"_ _

__"I told you. You didn't seem to care."_ _

__She could see him turning away and pursing his lips and thought he was going to leave now but then he looked at her again._ _

__"N-not t-true."_ _

__"Well, it's a rather short story. They took Franny, Dar helped a _lot_ with that and the judge wasn't a fan of a single mom with a mental illness, a hostage situation and my past employer."_ _

__"I- I thought I d-did the right thing. P-protecting her."_ _

__"I know", her voice was tired, "they discovered a weakness. It's always the same game. And I made it fucking easy for them."_ _

__Seeing her shouldering his blame made it harder. He felt a hot surge of wrath against Dar but the motherfucker was out of reach._ _

_For now._

__"I'm s-sorry."_ _

__"I know Quinn."_ _

__"W-when is she c-coming back?"_ _

__"I don't know. I have to prove my _sanity_ and then the judge decides that. Next month, next year or never. I have no idea. Today's incident certainly won't help."_ _

__Carrie burried her face in the crook of her elbow and Quinn could see her shoulders shaking and could hear her choked sobs._ _

__Quinn had never seen her like this. Not even in Islamabad or when her father had died. Not even in Berlin when he'd made her say good bye to her daughter._ _

_Defeated. Giving up. Undone:_

__He missed Carrie raising her head again and found himself looking right into her eyes when she spoke again._ _

__"Quinn", her voice quivered, "I tried. I _really_ tried. And I am _so_ sorry. I should have told you. I _know_. I was a coward. And I was wrong. And there wasn't a single day since then that I didn't _try_ to make it better. For Franny. And you. But I failed. And I can't go back in time to that _one_ day. I just can't. Although I'd do-"_ _

__"Carrie", his throat was closing up and he could barely breathe but he needed her to stop, "Carrie."_ _

__His hand reached out, tentatively and before his fucked up brain fully processed, and he covered her hand with his, closed it around her fingers and slowly pulled her closer, against his shoulder._ _

__She was reluctant for a beat and then, just when he felt the urge to run away as he had been misreading her again, she leant in, tucked under his arm now and with her head against his shoulder._ _

__"I'm so sorry", she whispered, not trusting her own voice, "I tried, I really did."_ _

__And then she was breaking apart and all he could do was hold her through it in his arm._ _

__She cried, her shoulders shaking under violent sobs at first, and then a while later it was silent tears._ _

__Quinn didn't move, just held her in his arm and waited for her to calm down._ _

__He didn't investigate his emotions. Because that would have been unbearable._ _

__When the tears slowly ebbed out he felt comfortable to speak again._ _

__"You'll g-get her back. S-soon. I'm sure."_ _

__Carrie didn't answer but she didn't move away either. She wondered how long he'd allow her to be so close. His arm was was warm and heavy around her shoulder and it felt good to lean into the bulk of his chest. She felt his heartbeat under her cheek. There had been a night in Berlin, when things had been very bleak, when she'd fell asleep in his hospital room. She'd been sitting on her chair next to his bed and her head had lolled forward and had come to rest on his chest. Carrie remembered waking up and feeling his warmth and his heartbeat. She'd stayed like this until the pain her oddly bent back had caused had been unbearable._ _

__He'd smelled like hospital soap then, antiseptic and impersonal. Now it was _him_ and the shower gel she'd bought him, long before he'd moved in. Nutmeg, a hint of lavender, burnt wood. She'd tried to remember what he'd smelled like when they'd kissed and when he'd placed his jacket around her shoulders. And she'd tried to ignore the memory of the metallic smell of his blood in Berlin._ _

_So many years. So few good memories._

__It had been during a lunch break in her first week in her new office and he'd been in the isolation ward that week. She hadn't been allowed to see him. So buying something for him had felt like a connection._ _

__She had cried in a Starbucks bathroom afterwards._ _

__"You'll leave, right?", she finally asked, wishing it were different._ _

__"Right", Quinn answered after a long beat._ _

__Carrie didn't answer but didn't move either._ _

__"I can't s-stay."_ _

__"Why? I can try-"_ _

__"Carrie", he interrupted her and it was only his arm around her which softened his outbreak, "I c-can't. This is not about y-you. Let me go. P-please."_ _

__But he didn't move either._ _

__"Where are you going?", Carrie asked after a long while when she trusted her voice enough._ _

__Quinn sighed and she thought he wouldn't answer._ _

__"G-Germany."_ _

__"But-"_ _

__"N-no. Not _there_. Fuck no. B-but I think I should s-see Astrid's p-parents. T-tell them w-what-", his voice trailed off and the thought of the quest he'd chosen weighed heavy on her heart. How a choice she herself had made in the end had cost Astrid's life was a dark place she wasn't yet ready to go to._ _

__"Did you ever meet them?"_ _

__"No. But they d-deserve answers. N-not just a c-corpse arriving in a few days and no truth."_ _

__They were silent for a long while. The anger and the hate were gone. It was a moment of shared grief. Peace. And defeat._ _

__Finally Carrie slowly and reluctantly detached._ _

_So this is it. Finally._

__But Carrie took his hand and looked at him, seeing he had tears in his eyes too._ _

__She knew he'd leave - this time forever - if she wasn't going to say _something_._ _

___But what? Is there anything which is enough?_ _ _

__She couldn't speak. Neither did he. But his eyes were locked with hers and she saw two tears slowly rolling down his cheek._ _

__His hand was still in hers._ _

__So she raised her other hand and slowly caught one of the tears with her thumb and gently wiped it away._ _

__"I meant what I said", a barely audible whisper._ _

__And then she leant in and softly kissed the corner of his mouth, tentative, tender, lingering - conveying a wordless message._ _

__This wasn't the kiss they'd shared in the tunnel. There was nothing sexual in it. No seduction and no manipulation. And just when he was about to lean in and kiss her back she broke away._ _

__Just a moment later she got up and led him back to the hallway, their hands still connected._ _

__It was dark when the door to Franny's room latched behind them, and Carrie let go of his hand._ _

__A sharp sense of loss teared through his core, overwhelming and painful._ _

__"I- I can't stay."_ _

__"I know."_ _

__"I'm s-sorry."_ _

__"Will I know where you are?"_ _

__"No. Don't l-look for me."_ _

__"Will I know", her voice broke, "that you aren't dead this time?"_ _

__"I'm not g-going to die."_ _

__"That's a promise?"_ _

__"Yes", he exhaled, feeling the weight of his promise, and then he bent down and kissed her. His mouth touched hers, hesitant and softly questioning but there was no resistance._ _

__His hand came up to her nape and he supported her there when their chaste kiss deepened into something different. Quinn kept it slow, softly explored her lips with his, before probing gently with his tongue. When Carrie parted her lips for him, she emitted a soft sigh, and he felt her hand clenching into his side. He held her close and Carrie felt the warmth radiating from his hand on her skin when she opened her mouth for him._ _

__For a precious moment it didn't matter whether this was goodbye or a last moment of what they could've been and never were, it was just him, his hand, his mouth on hers, his warmth and scent enveloping her in this moment of fruition._ _

__This was who they were, they always had had to almost lose each other to find each other again._ _

__Carrie felt his good hand slowly trailing down her back where it then rested at her small back, his thumb brushing over the few millimeters of naked skin between her soft lounge pants and shirt._ _

__She breathed a soft moan into his mouth when his hand slipped under her shirt and he slowly moved it upwards, following the gentle curve of her spine._ _

__She wasn't wearing a bra and her skin was smooth and warm under his calloused finger tips._ _

__She was melting into him and it was their twisted reality that only when he was finally ready to leave her behind she could let it all go and finally give in to the yearning._ _

__He'd been to her bedroom twice, both times when she hadn't been at home. But now it was different. Carrie broke the kiss and looked right into his eyes, barely visible in the nightly darkness of her home._ _

__"Come", she breathed and softly closed her fingers around his useless left hand._ _

__She guided him to her room. She was walking backwards, holding his hand while his right was still beneath the soft fabric of her shirt, and when they reached the threshold she leaned up and kissed him once more._ _

__Quinn's hand followed the line of her ribs, feeling the delicate structure of her bones under his hand, while they kissed. He paused a second when his hand reached the soft swell of her breast, but Carrie whispered his name against his lips followed by a gentle bite into his lower lip, and he slowly moved his hand and cupped her breast. His mouth left hers, placing a reverend kiss on jawline and nuzzling the soft skin below her earlobe when he slowly brushed his thumb over her nipple. He did it again, enjoying to feel the change of texture as it got hard._ _

__"Undress", his voice was hoarse, "I wanna see you."_ _

__He turned away when she was pulling her shirt over her head, moving his own shirt upwards, clumsy and slow, and then pulled it over his head and pulled it down is left arm._ _

__Carrie saw the muscles of his back working, _in one half of his back_ , and it nearly floored her._ _

__But then he was back with her, and she was hoping she'd managed to mask her feelings fast enough._ _

__"No pity Carrie", this was Quinn, of course he'd read her face, and then he pulled her close and into his lap while sitting down on the edge of her mattress._ _

__She kissed him, open mouthed and slowly, enjoying the feeling of his hand roaming over her body._ _

__His hand went to her nape and then he pulled her backwards, his mouth traveling further south. She gasped when his lips closed around her nipple and he gently started kissing and sucking it, and she made a whimper when he lapped it with his tongue. He wished he could engrave this moment forever in his fucked up brain and heart._ _

__"Touch the other one", he whispered and Carrie obeyed. He broke away for a moment to watch her small hand closing around her otjer breast, kneading it and then rubbing her nipple. When he resumed sucking and licking her nipple there was a change in his breathing, faster and laboured now, and when Carrie canted her hips upwards against his crotch she felt his length and heard him suppressing a moan._ _

__He brought her close to his chest again, his hand still in a firm grip around her nape, and she missed the feeling of his mouth and his tongue playing with her nipple._ _

__Their hands were exploring their bodies, slow, soft and gentle while their kisses deepened again._ _

__His hand was in the back of her yoga pants, fondling her buttocks, and she rolled her hips against him, the feeling of his long fingers softly caressing the skin between her bottom cheeks while she felt his hardon through the layers of fabric were running her into frenzy._ _

__Sliding off her pants was easy, the stretchy fabric went down smoothly when Carrie raised to her knees to support his effort, and then she sat naked in his lap, straddling him._ _

__She leant in, her hands framing his face as she kissed him, and his hand further explored the landscape of her body. He rounded her gorgeous ass, slipping his hand between her thighs, pleased to hear her breathing hitching when his fingertips made contact with her labia, gently stroking the soft and tender wetness he found._ _

"Quinn", she breathed when the pad of his finger grazed over her entrance, "I want this. I want _us_. _You._ " 

__And he believed her. For that one night he believed her and finally could let go too._ _

__Carrie pushed him back onto the mattress, her hands fumbling with his pants, and helped him to slid them down._ _

__As he sat on the edge of the bed she climbed in his lap again, one of her arms wrapped around his neck to support herself. Her other hand came between them and slowly encircled him, soft slender fingers moving up and down, and then she brought herself closer and rubbed herself against him while still stimulating him with her hand. His arm grasped around her waist and they kissed when she slowly lowered herself down on him._ _

__He trembled as she began to move against him and her hands came up to his face, caressing his cheeks._ _

__"I know", she whispered, "I know."_ _

__It was love and loss, no hope and yet a promise. An end to what they'd been. She knew he wouldn't - _couldn't_ \- stay and so did he. _ _

So this was farewell. 

__They kept it slow, a gentle rise and fall, his arm around her, her hands mapping his body, while they kissed with love and devotion._ _

__Quinn's hand covered most of her back and he held her close, his breath hot on her skin now, his mouth nuzzling her neck._ _

__He then wrapped his arm around her hips and pressed her into his lap while meeting her movements with his thrusts. He was moving faster and deeper into her now and Carrie went with him, letting him take her and hold her._ _

__When he came he clutched her tightly against his chest, she felt his warmth spreading into her, and she was just behind him, his last thrust taking her over the edge too._ _

__They didn't detach but held onto each other, Quinn still inside her, slow movements causing a pleasurable jolt every now and then._ _

__"Don't go right now", Carrie whispered, her voice thick with tears._ _

__Quinn didn't trust his voice so he just pulled her with him when he carefully sank back into her mattress, Carrie laying on his chest now._ _

__They lay together for hours, not talking, because what was there left to say what could be told and solved in one night?_ _

__They kissed and caressed, slow, soft and tender now, and then they lay still, Carrie's legs around his and her arm across his chest, carefully paying attention to not to come too close to his wound, while she was listening to his heartbeat._ _

__When Carrie cried he held her close and he felt her tears on his skin._ _

__

__Neither of them slept. If this was their end, they'd spent every minute aware and awake._ _

__It was in the early dim and grey light of the winter morning when Carrie raised and straddled his hips and leant down to kiss him, open-mouthed and promising. And he gave in to the yearning once more._ _

__Months later he remembered that moment and how something in him shifted that very moment when Carrie looked at him - raw, vulnerable and unguarded, her hair tousled and with a dark mark just over her collarbone, just where he'd sucked in her skin._ _

__Her eyes never left his as she lowered herself onto him and started her slow cadence. He saw the tears in her eyes and raised his hand to brush one away with his thumb. But Carrie caught his hand and brought his palm to her lips and placed a kiss right there. He cupped her cheek and had to swallow back his own tears._ _

__She came when he brought his hand between her legs and found her clit, rubbing it in slow circles which made her whimper and forget everything else for a few blissful moments._ _

__He'd never forget the beautiful visual of Carrie riding him, her soft curves exposed for him, how she sank down on his cock and accomodated all of him and how she moaned his name when she was there and braced herself with her hands on his chest, trembling and then clenching around him._ _

__She shimmied and twisted her hips a few more times, her eyes locked with his, and she didn't stop when his orgasm coiled up at the base of his spine, hot and promising. He pushed her down to the root of his cock, using his arm around her hips now, and came deep inside her._ _

__Afterwards she lay in his arm again, he'd managed to get on his side, his good arm on top so he could caress her back and hold her._ _

__"Try to sleep."_ _

__"You'll be gone when I wake up", Carrie stated with a flat voice, not a question._ _

__"Yeah. D-don't ask me to stay, p-please."_ _

_You gotta let me go._

__Carrie was silent for a long time, neither of them moved._ _

__"You said I won't know where you are and not to look for you. You'll tell me if that ever changes?"_ _

__"Yes."_ _

__Their last kiss was slow and lingering, and he tasted her tears, and then she finally drifted off to sleep._ _

__He stayed with her until she was deep asleep._ _

_I love you Carrie. Always did. Always will. But I can't stay._

__Maybe he even whispered it into her hair when he placed a last soft kiss on her cheek._ _

__And then he finally got up, got dressed, collected his vials from the kitchen counter, got his parka and left._ _

She'd finally let him go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got more sad than I initially intended so just a brief heads up in case you didn't notice: I stick to my promise in the tags which say "happy ending". In fact, there will be two endings, and you can choose your favourite one.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn left Carrie in New York and goes on his self chosen quest.

Quinn arrived in Frankfurt on a rainy and cold December morning and took an _ICE_ train via Cologne to Hannover. He'd decided not to book a national flight, David Exley's trail would end in the basement of Frankfurt airport's long distance train station.

He bought a full fare first class ticket which would allow him to make a few hours stop in Cologne.

He accepted the coffee and the newspaper he was offered and sank into the wide leather chair in his compartment, feeling the train picking up speed for the high speed journey through tunnels and valleys. It was just a sixty minutes ride, the train would travel at a maximum speed of 180 mph, and so there was no time to rest but just to finish two cups of coffee.

He'd slept for two or three hours on plane, meeting Carrie in his dreams. That would be the price for what he'd allowed himself to have, she'd invaded his conscious thinking and his dreams. He'd see her, feel her, miss her.

He left Cologne's mainstation towards the side of the cathedral and it took him a moment to realize that he wasn't in a hurry. It was okay to take a moment or two.

Tucked under the stairs he found an elevator, the cabin smelled of piss and sweat, but it took him up to the plateau with the main entrance.

It was still early morning and other than in all jokes he knew about Germans - and other than the Germans he himself knew - the people of Cologne apparently didn't like to be efficient, punctual or early risers. The pedestrian zone was empty, whereas the station already had been busy with commuters coming into the city and the last night owls finally finding their way home.

The cathedral's main entrance was open though and before he had made a conscious  decision he found himself slowly walking inside the large gothic church.

The interior had the shape of a latin cross and he slowly made his way through the nave, following the main aisle until he reached the choir and took a turn to the right. He sat in a bench in the side aisle, facing the largest stained-glass window. Whereas the side aisle was lined with windows picturing biblical scenes this one was contemporary. It was nearly 20 metres high and filled with coloured squares, over 10.000, Quinn estimated.

He leaned back and allowed himself to rest. The cathedral was quiet at this early hour, he was the only visitor. The first service wouldn't be held before 8am, he thought, and tourists were probably rare at this time of the year and especially this time of the day.

The church would be filled with colours and dancing light on a bright day when the sun shined through the modern window and Quinn couldn't help it but appreciated the idea of the artist.

_There's a crack in everything, this is how the light gets in..._

He had no idea if this was true. 

He rose when he heard the bells ring at 7 am and left the church through a side exit, finding himself to make a brief croonss sign with his right.

Opposite of the church was a hotel but as David Exley never set a foot into Cologne he decided for the café on the other site and had breakfast there, watching the now closed Christmas market stalls in the shadow of the cathedral.

He bought some fresh clothes, toiletries and a duffel bag when the department store around the corner opened at 10 and was back to the now busy main station at 10.30.

In Hannover he took a local train and then a taxi, as a rental car was no option without a driver's licence. But if he remembered correctly his fallback in a storage near Berlin contained not only cash but a set of three identities, one of them US, one South African and one  Chilean, with a driver's licence for each.

Only the US one was agency provided, he'd bought the two others himself a few years ago through Astrid's contacts and he had several more, acquired through his own network, in other locations.

Now they would give him time to hide and think. 

He had no idea what he'd do after the visit he'd forced himself to make today.

_Astrid's parents._

He arrived in the medieval town Gifhorn in the afternoon, the taxi driver dropped him on his request on a street corner about 100 yards away from the red brick stone house.

It would be dark soon, the day had been grey and cold and the emptiness of the landscape he'd crossed by train had been depressing.

_Not that it mattered in any way._

The street was quiet, nobody was outside. Most people probably were still at work and those who weren't had no reason to be outside.

Per his own calculations Astrid parents probably had gotten informed about their daughter's death two days ago. Probably Astrid's corpse wasn't even back to Germany by now.

He stopped when he reached the house with the number 18, noticing the single candle in each window.

Astrid's father opened the door, at least Quinn assumed it was her father, he'd never met the man or seen a picture of him or his wife.

He was tall, which didn't come as a surprise given Astrid's height, and his eyes were the same glacier blue as hers. 

He'd practiced his introduction silently in the cab many times and hoped he'd manage without getting stuck.

"Guten Abend. Mein Na-name ist Peter Q-Quinn and I- und i-ch bin ein Freund Ihrer To-ch-", the german _ch_ was a tongue twister on good days, and right now he was stuck.

_Good evening. My name is Peter Quinn and I am a friend of your daughter. Couldn't be that hard. Or - was..._

"Good evening", the man opened the door widely know, "I know who you are. Or I don't, actually. But I know you are Astrid's friend. Brigitte, Lars, wir haben einen unerwarteten Gast", he announced the unexpected visitor over his shoulder and made an inviting gesture with his hand.

Quinn stepped over the threshold, feeling sick and raw.

He saw the older man's eyes widening as he started moving and then he saw realization trickling in.

"So, you survived Berlin but-"

_German bluntness. Astrid's been the same. No sugarcoating. Just plain and direct. I always liked that._

"Y-yes. Th-this is the s-souvenir."

"I'm sorry", the man simply said and led him into the kitchen where his wife and a younger man sat at the kitchen table, a teapot on a warmer and mugs in front of them.

The woman got up, she had red curls and was tall too, and Quinn saw the arched eyebrows, another reminder of Astrid. She took his hand in both her hands and looked into his face, tears apparent in her eyes.

"You came. So you know."

" _Mama_ , give him a second", the younger man interrupted and she let go of his hand and sat down again with a heartbreaking sigh.

"I am Lars. Astrid's brother. And you are-"

"Peter Quinn."

"Take a seat. Tea?"

"Y-yes."

"Peter", Astrid's father addressed Quinn after Lars had handed him a cup of tea, "how come you already know what we just learnt yesterday?"

_This is the hard part._

"I- I w-was there. I f-found her."

He'd pondered over the question which story to tell her family for hours and hours. He hated to lie to them. But the truth wouldn't give them any peace. There would never be an investigation. The incident probably was already filed under _case closed_. Even if her family went there to talk to the police officers they'd probably tell them nothing which would contradict his story now.

"You were there?", her mother whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Y-yes. She c-came to h-h-he-", his stutter was bad, really bad now, but the three others didn't get impatient but just looked at him, expectantly, so he tried again, "help me. We w-went to that house. I-I w-was out, at the s-supermarket, and when I c-came back, I-"

"You found her", Brigitte whispered and squeezed Quinn's forearm.

Quinn just gave a nod, trying to conceal the pent up emotions in his chest.

"What happened?"

"I-it w-was empty w-weekend houses. They d-didn't expect s-someone t-to be there. The w-weapon, i-in the c-car, w-with me. N-no chance."

Quinn hated himself that moment. It was a sickening lie and he damned himself for not being able to give them the truth. But on what path would he send them then? They'd seek justice then and this would be a lost cause and bring further harm.

"I-it w-was my f-fault."

"You couldn't know", the kind woman said, offered him a tissue and squeezed his arm again, "Wolfgang, we could use some more tea, I guess."

Quinn had not noticed the few single tears rolling down his cheeks until that moment and was embarrassed beyond words.

_What have I been thinking to come here?_

They sat for a long time and talked. About Astrid. Mostly Quinn listened. Astrid as a child. A teen. A young woman. Withdrawing from her family after she'd joined the BND and returning from her first posting abroad. Never speaking about her work. How bright she'd been. Her dry humour.

They made him tell how Astrid came to help him with his recovery, as he put it, and what her last day had been like. He spared them the details, and didn't know if he did it for them or himself.

"The bulletin... what German police told us - they said she lay on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. That she didn't die there but probably outside. That someone brought her inside. That local police got a call but only found her when she was... _there_...", Quinn knew she was avoiding the word _dead_ and probably would continue to do so for some more days or weeks even , "for about twelve hours. You did that?"

Quinn pursed his lips at the memory of the long hours he'd spent at Astrid's side. Astrid who had paid his own asininity with her life. Astrid who had come to be with him and help him through his very own hell. And now he'd be praised for the only thing he ever did for her. Giving her a silent wake until the early hours of the morning before leaving her behind, even betraying her in his death as nobody would never know how and why she died. 

_Except Carrie. And Dar._

But this was about Astrid's family. Parents who lost their daughter. A brother who lost his sister. People who _loved_ her. And now had lost her.

So he looked up and met Brigitte's eyes and then Wolfgang's and gave a short nod. Lars looked away, Quinn couldn't make his eyes.

"Astrid never spoke a lot about her life", Wolfgang said with an unstable voice, "given the nature of her _work_ I guess this is what was requested. But in May, after -", he hesitated for a brief moment so Quinn could brace himself, "after what _happened_ to you, we knew she was involved and she told us you are her friend. And yesterday when we went to Berlin to collect her cat and her birth certificate we found this in the same cardbox."

He grabbed a small stash of paperwork and went through it, found what he was looking for, and handed it to Quinn over the table.

"So we are grateful that she wasn't alone."

A photo. The Spanish Embassy's Christmas Party in Venezuela, 2011. La Castellana Hotel. She'd made him go with her, a friend had invited her, and someone had made a photo of them when she kissed his cheek and he was smiling, his arm around her shoulder. He had noticed the intruder - they'd been on the ballroom's balcony, overlooking the sea of lights and the dark mountain further away, sharing a cigarette and a bottle of Tequila they'd smuggled outside - and had joked with him to delete the photo as he was an undercover spy - sometimes the truth was the best legend. Astrid had said she'd take care of it and had followed the guy inside. And apparently she had taken care of the situation, her way. She looked young in that photo. He himself looked young.

Quinn swallowed, slowly realizing that he was still staring down at the picture of Astrid and himself.

"Astrid c-came to help m-me. She d-died and I'll n-never f-forgive myself. N-no p-parent should ever have to m-mourn their child. I'm s-sorry."

This was all he had to offer and he was a fucking mess and shouldn't be here at all.

"I'm s-sorry. I g-gotta go."

"No. Peter, you should stay. Please. Stay. And-"

"I g-gotta go. I j-just c-"

"I'll bring you to the station", Lars came to his help, "I'll make a brief stop at home and help Sandra to put the kids to bed but I'll be back later", he addressed his parents.

Quinn felt his chest closing and didn't know how he managed to get out of the kitchen and how he got through a tearful farewell and the obligatory question if he'd back for the funeral. It hurt to cause further pain for these nice people. But he wouldn't come back here.

When Lars' _Golf_ finally rolled along the neatly lined yard fences Quinn tried to suppress a sigh and leaned back. 

"You got shot too, right?"

_Fuck._

"I-", _Damn, asshole, come up with story. Now._

"I'm a doctor. Not much experience with gun wounds though. Just during an internship in Cape Town. So? They still were there when you came back?"

And with that the kind man had given him the cover story he was looking for.

"Yeah. T-tried to g-get them. G-got shot. Sh-shoulder. Not f-fast enough."

"You had no chance. If they were armed and you had no weapon."

_He has no idea about the real deal of Astrid's or my work. ___

__And as far as Quinn was concerned he wasn't going to change that._ _

__"L-look, I-"_ _

__"You didn't want to worry my parents. I know. But why didn't you report to the police? You should. You have to. And they'll-"_ _

__"I d-did. It's- they- "_ _

__"They'll investigate?"_ _

__m"Yeah. That."_ _

__"Why weren't we told that?"_ _

_What a clusterfuck. What the fuck was I thinking?_

__"My i-, my name-"_ _

__"Your identity?"_ _

__"Yeah."_ _

__"They changed that after May?"_ _

__"Yeah."_ _

__Again that obtuse nice doctor was serving him an other excuse on a silver platter. And even _if they'd press for another examination of the scene they'd never be able to find out what really happened. Traces of his presence, yes, but they already knew he'd been there. The bullets were buried at the bottom of the lake, and there was no reason for a diving team to search there. But he hated himself for what he'd done to Astrid and her family.__ _

___"You need anything for your wound?"_ _ _

___"N-no, I'm fine."_ _ _

___"How long did you know my sister?"_ _ _

___"Ten years, m-more or l-less."_ _ _

___"But other than that photo indicates you weren't- not anymore, at least?"_ _ _

___It would have been an easy lie, and a welcome one, Quinn thought, everyone wanted happiness for a deceased, but at least with _this_ he owed Astrid honesty._ _ _

___"No. B-but we were f-friends."_ _ _

___Lars dropped him at the station's back entry and when Quinn was going to say _something_ he just shook his head and restarted the engine._ _ _

___\----------_ _ _

___Quinn arrived in Berlin late at night. It would have been easy to steal Astrid's keys from her parent's house, he'd seen them on the small side table between the front door and the restroom. But it would have been too obvious, so pick locks had to do._ _ _

___He'd never been to Astrid's apartment in Berlin, she'd drawn a clear line there - and he understood, now he did._ _ _

___But she'd told him where she kept his storage unit's key._ _ _

_I guess you'll be in a hurry, should you ever need it. So no niceties necessary. Just don't let the cat run out._

___But the cat was with her parents now._ _ _

___Second bookshelf, third board, _Scotland_ , right next to Scott, Stevenson and Doyle._ _ _

___She'd glued the pages and then had cut out a small compartment and there was the key, and a short note with the pass code and a few written words._ _ _

_Good luck. I hope you need it because you're finally out. If yes, good. If not, you should consider it now. And make sure to close the door._

___He took the key and the notes, hesitated for a beat, and then took the book too and left the apartment._ _ _

_She will never come back here._

___He opened the book again during his _S-Bahn_ -ride to Wedding._ _ _

_Scotland. Why not. As good as any place._

___\--------------------_ _ _

___He left Berlin early next morning after another night spent awake, this time at Tegel airport. The first flight to London left shortly after 6 and at noon he was on a train northbound._ _ _

___It was an eight hours journey to Inverness and finally he fell asleep, lulled to a light slumber by the constant _tatam tatam_ of the train. _ _ _

___The memory of Carrie's kiss just before she left him behind in that underground station was a bright flash just before he slipped away._ _ _

___It was dark when he woke up again and he had difficulties remembering where he was but then it all came back._ _ _

_Carrie. Astrid. New York. Berlin. London. Scotland now. Why?_

___Because he'd given a fucking promise. Once again._ _ _

___The temperature was around 30 F when he left the station building, which was located opposite a nondescript shopping mall built in the eighties._ _ _

___He knew he wouldn't get far without more sleep and some food, so he made his way down to the riverbanks and entered the first pub on his way._ _ _

___Guestrooms were announced on a sign in the window and this was where he crashed after a bowl of hearty stew and a large Ale._ _ _

___He slept for fifteen hours, it was noon when he woke up again, dimly remembering that he'd been up to toss some pain killers in the middle of the night, and had slid into another few hours of darkness then._ _ _

___The dreams would find him, that was sure as fuck. Being on the move would keep them at bay for a day or two longer but he was exhausted and needed a break. Not just a night or two. A break. A real break from it all. Rationally he knew that. And yet he feared what lay ahead of him._ _ _

___He got a car after he'd forced himself to take a shower and eat. And then he drove westbound for 80 miles. First there were still some villages and settlements. A pub or a shop every now and then or a filling station._ _ _

___The headache started after 60 miles._ _ _

___In the beginning he was on a main road, which then got more and more narrow, and in the end was just a small gravel road following the shoreline. And then he finally reached the end._ _ _

____Finisterra._ _ _ _

___It was already getting dark, it was one of the shortest days of the year, and the day had been grey and dull, the clouds hanging low over the grey of the sea._ _ _

___Behind a narrow fence were a group of low buildings, no lights in the windows, the place looked abandoned. Quinn opened the gate and let the car roll inside the yard. A small sign told him that the place once had been a hostel, maybe closed down for winter now, maybe abandoned forever. He didn't care._ _ _

___The painful spasms had returned to his limp leg, it was a fucking irony how it could be so useless in one way and still sense so much pain._ _ _

___He knew he had maybe fifteen minutes left now before the headache coiling up behind his eyes would cloud his vision and consciousness and that he needed to find a place _now_ to surrender to it and whatever else the night would bring._ _ _

___The buildings to his left, once probably a pigsty, had several windows facing the yard and a wooden door, not too sturdy, so he used the pick locks from Berlin to break in._ _ _

___They called it _aura_ , that strange stage before the pain started its inevitable ascent, he flickering lights next to dark spots, the nausea, the dizziness. It usually lasted longer, now it was just mere minutes, he was still fumbling with the pick locks, fighting against his shrinking visual field, when the pain cut hot right through his brain and made him double over._ _ _

___The door sprang open and he stumbled inside, whatever was inside would have to do, he was on his knees now, the pain centering between the vertebrae at his nape now, but there was a bedframe, metallic and cold, and a scratchy surface, a blanket maybe, and this was where he crashed and let the pain wash him away._ _ _

___He had some meds, but not enough anyway, and there was no way he could get up, go to the car and get them now, so this was it._ _ _

___He was finally free._ _ _

____The loneliest person in the world._ _ _ _

___Dar used to say that._ _ _

_Without me, you're nothing. You could die in the street and nobody would notice. Nobody would miss you. Cause without me you're all alone._

___And with that thought Quinn sank into unconsciousness, into the darkness and shadows._ _ _

___It had been a last surge of energy which had brought him here, he'd managed to function just long enough but now he just let go._ _ _

___The night came and brought a winter storm, somewhere far away he heard the shutters clanging in their hinges and the wind howling._ _ _

___It was cold and he was freezing but he didn't move, breathing alone caused too much pain behind his eyes._ _ _

___This was how he spent that night, and the next day. The storm calmed down a bit, and then gained power again the next evening, and he was still curled up on that narrow cot. The pain attack had never lasted so long before. He remembered once being shot in a Syrian desert, he'd lost his team, and the blood loss had been worrisome, and each step had put a searing knife through his upper arm and his brain._ _ _

___So he'd used his shirt to improvise a triangular sling and had spend the days hidden in dug up holes, moving back towards the extraction point only at night. It had been four nights, and had taken it step by step, mile by mile, hour by hour._ _ _

___That silent determination - he didn't have that anymore. He couldn't force himself to endure and persevere anymore. There was _nothing_ left. No mission, no hope, no cause worth fighting for. No iron core._ _ _

___He was done._ _ _

___\----------------_ _ _

___When he woke up, the pain was gone. It was silent, only the distant sounds of the sea from somewhere far away._ _ _

___Quinn didn't move for a long while but finally opened his eyes._ _ _

___He was in a square room with two windows and one door, a bunk bed on each side of the room and a sink on the third wall. Two simple white washed wardrobes, one next to each bunk bed. Thin mattresses, no sheets._ _ _

___A hostel probably. Closed for winter._ _ _

___So there wasn't anybody to be expected anytime soon. Which was perfect._ _ _

___Behind the window he could see a patch of sky, clouded and grey, and he briefly wondered what time of the day it was._ _ _

___He slowly got up, feeling dizzy and nauseous, but once he sat it was getting better._ _ _

___He tried to open the faucet, the water was brownish at first but got clear after a while and he realized how thirsty he was. Probably hungry too, but that didn't matter._ _ _

___He splashed some of the cold water onto his face, spared himself the look into the mirror and then started to check his surroundings more thoroughly._ _ _

___There wasn't so much to see. It was an abandoned hostel, several dorms and two twin rooms, in the main building across the yard were a kitchen and a lounge, but he didn't intend to go there. The buildings belonged to a former lighthouse, _out of all fucking places_. Probably the lighthouse keeper had lived here some decades ago. Now the signal probably was automated._ _ _

___The day was cloudy and outside was a constant drizzle, it was cold and misty, and there weren't any other building or cars as far as he could see._ _ _

___He found a bathroom at the end of the hallway and he managed to get the water running there too, so he could take a piss and drink some more water. It was cold too, and the inside of the building was damp and humid, the heating was either disconnected or there simply was no heating, maybe never had been._ _ _

___But he found a stash of old blankets in one of the dorms' wardrobes and with two of these he lay down on the cot again._ _ _

___There was nothing left to do. He'd come here, with no plan, without a task or a mission, just because he had to get away from _her_ , had to bring as many miles between them as he could, since he had promised not to finish himself. Which was ridiculous. But it was what it was._ _ _

___That night, the dreams came back._ _ _

___Dreams about what he had seen and witnessed and done. Dreams of what people had done to him._ _ _

_The old man at the banks of Tigris who fished in the same spot every single day. He had told him not to. It was his first deployment. The man was seventy years old and sat in the village county so he wouldn’t listen to anyone. And one day this fifteen-year-old kid rides by on a scooter and drops a bomb behind him. He got there right as the sun is going down. And a truck was lighting up the scene with its headlights. And the air smelled like an old duffel bag. The hole was filled with dusty, coagulated blood. And parts of this guy were floating in the canal. And it looked like somebody has thrown Smucker’s jelly all over the wall. A human body just shredded and stomped and blown to bits. A casualty of war. As he himself would cause so many in the years which lay ahead of him._

_Guys blown to bits. Kids losing limbs. Dogs eating people. Men raping women. Parents losing their children. Children turned into war machines, their eyes dead. Decent men dying for a war without clear front lines and without an end. A teenager hoping for a father figure, giving the only thing which was left to him, his integrity and dignity. The smell of human flesh, burned. The animalistic screams of tortured men. Syria. What he did in Syria. Berlin. Like so many nights before, never waking up but being caught in an endless sequence of pain, feeling the invisible gas invading every cell of his body._

___Sometimes he got up, to drink and use the toilet, twice he even took a shower, his teeth rattling when he crawled back under the frayed blanket._ _ _

___In the beginning he still took his pain meds and the primidone but as he would run out of these soon anyway he didn't see a point in taking them anyway. It didn't matter. None of this shit mattered, finally._ _ _

___He was free. Just not free enough to finally vanish. Although she'd never know._ _ _

___He tried not to think of her. But at night when the pain and the nightmares came back he couldn't control his mind. She'd always done this to him: Picking holes into his wall of self-control, tiny holes which grew and suddenly had been large enough to destabilize the whole fucking thing._ _ _

___So there she was. Sometimes a flash of blonde. Sometimes her eyes. Once she died in Islamabad._ _ _

___Days and nights were the same. He slept many hours and spent many hours somewhere in between, breathing shallow against the white flashes of his headache._ _ _

_That fucking promise._

___He knew he had to eat. Starving takes a while, at least for a well-fed grown up in a western country, and then there was that fucking promise. And in case he wouldn't want to stick to it - he knew far more efficient ways._ _ _

___So he took some pills one morning, at least he thought it was morning, and drove down the gravel road._ _ _

___The filling station was closed so he had to go to the next village._ _ _

___The shop was closed too but the pub next to it was open, so he'd start there._ _ _

___An Irn-Bru first, the sugary drink helped to fight the dizziness he felt ever since he'd gotten up, and then fish and chips and coffee._ _ _

___The small bar room wasn't crowded, just a few other guests were here, whereas he heard voices and laughter from the adjacent dining room._ _ _

___After he'd finished his meal he asked the waitress, a woman in her fifties, where he could buy some food._ _ _

___"On Boxing Day?", she smiled incredulously, "you're a wee late for stocking the pantry for your Christmas dinner, lad."_ _ _

___Quinn didn't know what to answer.It was awkward because who the hell _forgets_ Christmas? Not that it had meant a lot in his calendar over the last years but he knew how strange it must feel to the woman opposite of the counter._ _ _

___So he just gave a small smile and ordered another cup of coffee, hoping she wouldn't return to the topic of their conversation._ _ _

___But of course she couldn't let it rest._ _ _

___"What do you need?"_ _ _

___"W-what?"_ _ _

___"From the shop? I've got keys, it's mine too. See that connecting door in the back? It's not too busy here, I'll ask Ryan from the kitchen to cover the bar for a few minutes, so you can get what you need."_ _ _

___Stunned by the woman's kindness Quinn got up and followed her into the small crammed village shop._ _ _

___He ended up with getting more than he needed, somehow he didn't want to make a full moron out of himself. And it might be useful if she didn't remember him as the limping weirdo with the speech impediment who forgot Christmas, but as a normal customer who bought normal things._ _ _

___So he went back with a large bag full of food, she'd even made Ryan from the kitchen carry it to the car for him._ _ _

___When he wanted to pay she just waved her hand and refused to accept any payment._ _ _

___"Merry Christmas, lad. There's some nasty weather coming, it's good that you stocked your pantry."_ _ _

___\------------_ _ _

___He ate irregularly. Canned food or bread. Some fruits._ _ _

___Sometimes he took some pills, sometimes not. Most of the days he spent on the cot, waiting for - nothing._ _ _

___Finally there wasn't anything left. He could vanish from earth surface without any ties to cut._ _ _

___He'd tried that once before, in Syria, but then he still had had his work, his team, the next mission. So that had been limbo. Now none of these existed anymore in his life._ _ _

___It was a relief. Finally to be able to give in into the emptiness._ _ _

___He got a cold, something he noticed but it didn't feel connected to him. And truth to be told, it was a minor discomfort out of the variety he had on offer._ _ _

___Not taking his meds regularly meant the seizures cames back, and the cramps, and the cluster headaches. The seizures weren't too bad when he lay on the bed when it happened. And usually he slept deeply and without any nightmares for hours afterwards. Whereas usually he didn't sleep well, and when he did the images he saw were haunting him day and night._ _ _

___So he started to rest during daytime, a dim state between sleep and wakefulness and decided to stay awake during the nights as the dreams were worse then._ _ _

___The weather was indeed ugly, cold rain and heavy winds for days, and the clouds seemed to melt into the heavy sea._ _ _

___Sometimes he just sat at the beach all night long, sometimes he walked without a particular destination. The peninsula was part of the highlands, heatherland and moorlands, and a steep cliff line were surrounding him._ _ _

___If a seizure happened when he was on one of his wanderings he was fucked. Same went for the headache._ _ _

___One night he had a cluster forming while he was down at the beach, it had started to rain again. His last conscious thought was that there was a reason why patients called it _suicide headache_ , and then the staggering pain behind his eye crushed him._ _ _

___It could last minutes or hours, he didn't know. Usually he came out of it as a shaking mess, curled up on his bed, sweaty and shivering, his fingernails cutting deep into the heel of his hand._ _ _

___It wasn't any better this time, just that he felt the wet pebbles scratching over his cheeks when he fell and the rain and rising tide soaking his clothes when he could breathe and see again and the pain slowly subsided._ _ _

___It was the first time he cried since he'd left Carrie. It was the first time he allowed himself to go _there_ , back to that one night they'd had. And it was that moment that he realized he couldn't keep his promise._ _ _

___It was the first time he memorized their parting. How he'd held her, how she'd leant into him, how her arms had been wrapped around him so many hours during the night. Too late, and yet all he'd ever wanted._ _ _

___He managed his way back from the beach and up to the steep cliff path after a while, feeling a bone-deep exhaustion and was frozen stiff when he reached his hideout and he collapsed on the narrow bed frame, his fingers too cold to get the wet clothes down._ _ _

___The fever came after a few hours, with a fiery intensity which made him gasp with its brute force. He heard his lungs rattling, and knew it was bad when he couldn't find the strength to move and turn around._ _ _

___He went to dark places that night, alone and lost and feverish, while his dreams were made of glaring colours, painful to watch, and brutal in their elaborateness._ _ _

___In his stage between sleep and reality, Quinn knew the images he saw were nightmares, evoked from a place deep within his fucked up brain. But knowing they were just shadows from the past didn't make them any less painful and terrifying._ _ _

___He'd learnt long ago not to let anger or fear define his actions, and yet that ability had died with him in that chamber. There was no place left to hide anymore._ _ _

___It was already morning, he saw the dim light of another grey day through the window, when he fell into light slumber, hearing his own breath making a wheezing sound._ _ _

___He dreamt of Carrie._ _ _

_Carrie in Islamabad. Carrie in Berlin. Blood on her face. Carrie who just had Franny and asked him to come with her to Kabul. Carrie coming out of the warehouse, beaten and blood on her face. The night of the wake. Carrie holding a hand in a white room. Crying. Holding Carrie. Feeling her breath. Giving her a promise._

___Carrie who always asks for more than he could give. And yet made him _try_._ _ _

___Carrie who'd finally let him go._ _ _

___\---------------_ _ _

___Quinn's fever was still high when he woke up and he knew he had to make a decision._ _ _

___So he sat up, trying to breathe shallow and to ignore the stabbing pain in his chest, and reached for the last few pills which were left._ _ _

___Half an hour later he managed to get to the car and drive down to the village, his hands shaking and his teeth rattling._ _ _

___He'd seen a GP's sign on a house at the market square and this was where he went._ _ _

___The receptionist led him right into the physician's office, and he thought that his display of weakness probably was embarrassing._ _ _

___He'd managed to empty his pockets on the desk until the doctor came in, so all his empty vials lay on the table._ _ _

___"And now you want me to prescribe you all of these", the man asked with a small smile after he'd diagnosed a unilateral pneumonia._ _ _

___"Yes", Quinn rasped._ _ _

___"And why would I do this?"_ _ _

___"Cause this is what I was told to take."_ _ _

___"But you didn't."_ _ _

___Quinn didn't answer._ _ _

___"These were prescribed in October. Now it's February. So you took them irregularly at best. My guess would be you didn't take them at all for quite some time."_ _ _

___"True."_ _ _

___"And now?"_ _ _

___"I'll take them."_ _ _

___"How many attacks of cluster headache did you have over the last, uhm, two weeks."_ _ _

___"Dunno."_ _ _

___The man just waited._ _ _

____Fine._ _ _ _

___"A few."_ _ _

___"Seizures?"_ _ _

___"Two. Maybe three."_ _ _

___"Maybe. Hmm. Who prescribed you these?"_ _ _

___Quinn had  peeled off all the labels in Berlin, while waiting for his flight._ _ _

___"A doctor in South Africa. Pretoria."_ _ _

___"Who also dealt with your gunshot wound."_ _ _

___"Yeah."_ _ _

___The man looked at him, sighed, and then got up to reach into a large apothecary's cabinet behind him._ _ _

___"This is what we'll do. You need antibiotics. Which are these", he placed a small container on his desk, "and I'll get you the Primidone. It won't be here before tomorrow though, but I need to see you again tomorrow anyway."_ _ _

___"No."_ _ _

___"Well, then it's hospital."_ _ _

___Quinn took a moment, then two, and then he gave a small nod._ _ _

___"So you'll get the Primidone tomorrow. And then we'll set up a schedule about re-introducing the other meds. Some will have contraindications with what I just gave you for your pneumonia, and we can't start them all at the same time anyway. And these", he pointed to the  Primidone, "are not first choice with antidepressants anyway. Why did you get Novalgin?"_ _ _

___"C-cl-cluster headaches."_ _ _

___"Opioids aren't a good choice with that. Unfortunately there are not much options. Let's try Verelan then. I'll order these for you. You'll start these today. Do you have a place to stay?"_ _ _

___"Yeah."_ _ _

___"Where? I'll bring you your other meds tomorrow."_ _ _

___"N-not here. I'll come by."_ _ _

___"The place you stay, does that offer dry clothes and regular meals? Sorry for being so blunt, but you’re _severly_ ill, apparently not only since today", he pointed to the empty vials on the desk, "and a pneumonia is no walk in the park."_ _ _

___"I'm f-fine."_ _ _

___"If you say so."_ _ _

___Quinn left the practise a few minutes later, having another appointment for the next day and feeling exhausted and raw._ _ _

___And before he knew it he found himself slowly crossing the market square, two sea gull screaming in the air above him fighting, and walking into pub, as a sign indicated _bed and breakfast, rooms available_._ _ _

___If he was intending to survive this he'd probably better get started. And he was just too exhausted and beyond being able to drive back._ _ _

___\-----------_ _ _

____  
   
  

___Looking back a few weeks later, the day he met  Alistair, the doctor, and took quarters at Fiona's guesthouse was a pivotal turning point._ _ _

___Not immediately though. He stayed a week, four days out of these with high fever peaks and dreadful hallucinations. But he had a warm meal each day, twice even as Fiona tried to fatten him up with breakfast and an early dinner each day, he slept in an actual bed under a warm duvet, and Alistair got him the meds he needed._ _ _

___After he returned to his hideout, there was no major change but small shifts. He still spent many hours in that single room but started to go out every day for a while. Having had no set day to day routine, let alone a sleep pattern,  for months,  Quinn tried now to claim back some regularity into his days._ _ _

___He'd done this before, fighting his way back from dark places with sheer force of will, but this time it was hard._ _ _

___But the walks he made got longer, he went to the village once a week to buy food, and when spring came he started to meet Alistair more or less once a week, sometimes for dinner at the pub, sometimes just for a pint._ _ _

___And then Alistair asked him if he'd like to join him for fishing on a Sunday morning. They left at 5 am, the air was crisp and cold, the nights were still chilly although the heather moore's landscape was slowly transforming from a dull brown back to green-ish colours._ _ _

___They didn't talk for most of the hours, just watched the sea and the horizon, Alistair caught two haddocks with their distinctive thumb print, and for a few precious moments Quinn felt a sense of tranquility settling in he hadn't known for many years._ _ _

___When they passed the cliffs beneath the lighthouse, Alistair casually mentioned that the Northern Lighthouse Board was searching a new tenant for the abandoned hostel._ _ _

___Both men fell silent for a while then again until Quinn finally spoke, slowly, as his aphasia was much easier to overcome when he didn't try to hurry but allowed the words to form before he started speaking._ _ _

___"So you know."_ _ _

___"Ay."_ _ _

___"Since when?"_ _ _

___"Early."_ _ _

___"You n-never said-"_ _ _

___"Not my business."_ _ _

___"No. True."_ _ _

___And with that, the matter wasn't revisited._ _ _

___But if Quinn had to choose a moment which reconnected him with reality it'd be that day, on the boat._ _ _

___And when Alistair asked him if he'd like to join him a week later again, Quinn caught himself looking forward to that particular day and occasion._ _ _

It was a standing agreement now, every Saturday and Sunday at 5 am, whenever the wind permitted it, they met at the small harbour - more a quay than a harbour actually - and went for a fishing trip.  

After two weeks Quinn found himself buying rain gear.  
   
March moved into April, and the days slowly became longer and less cold, and Quinn knew that he was facing some decisions.

___He thought about Carrie more often these days, not only in his dreams, and wondered how she was doing._ _ _

_Did she get Franny back? Is she still in New York? What happened after the inauguration?_

___That, and sometimes their last night together._ _ _

___The tunnel, their escape, her words, whispered into his ear._ _ _

___The moment when they had made love the second time and she’d looked right into his eyes, not hiding, raw and honest._ _ _

_And maybe. Just maybe._

___One day, around Easter, he drove to Inverness and bought a postcard. A lighthouse. Not _his_ lighthouse, just a postcard. That's what he told himself. If he was wondering how she was doing, maybe she wanted to know that he was okay too. He didn't call her. But a postcard was what he could do. She could ignore it, there were no strings attached to a postcard. Maybe she'd moved and would never receive it._ _ _

___He wrote a simple line and posted it right away, suspecting he might reconsider otherwise._ _ _

_I kept my promise._

___That night he dreamt of her again. How they'd made love and that he'd left her then._ _ _

_I love you Carrie._

___\-------------------_ _ _


	5. Ending I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How is Carrie Coping after Quinn left? After she finds his postcard she'll look for him and find him.

The first weeks were tough. A constant fight against depression. 

Carrie knew she had to keep her shit together if she wanted to have the slightest chance to get Franny back. 

But waking up the morning after Quinn had left and letting sink in the reality of what they'd shared, albeit she'd lost him nevertheless, floored her. She spent the day curled up in bed, seeking the last bit of his long gone presence, and didn't bother to hold back her tears.

Spending Christmas and New Year's alone wasn't easy either. She was allowed to see Franny for two hours the day before Christmas and then again a few days later. She managed to hold her tears back until she reached her car. Franny gave her a picture she'd painted for her as Christmas present: Franny, Peter and Mommy and a Christmas tree. She asked when she'd be allowed to come back home. It was the only night in all those weeks Carrie had a drink.

She didn't try to find Quinn. She knew she wouldn't be able to trace him anyway. And he'd been very clear in expressing his wish to be left alone. So for once she decided to try to live with his request and the consequences.

She didn't wait for him to reach out for her. She doubted he ever would.

So December moved into January, the inauguration came and Elizabeth needed her more than ever in her transition team. Yet Carrie refused her repeated offer to join her team permanently. 

So by the end of January she was unemployed. 

_And free._

She told Saul she couldn't join the agency just yet. It wasn't a _yes_ or _no_ , but pleading for more time.

She went to Dar Adal's first hearing and left the room after ten minutes.

The memory of the one night she and Quinn had shared was painful and precious and she only allowed herself to revisit it for a few and rare moments.

Sometimes she dreamt of Quinn though. 

_You gotta let me go._

His promise. The few hours they'd shared that night, finally. 

And she remembered Berlin, when Astrid and she had found him in that gas chamber, and all what had followed then.

Looking back now, she wished she told him before what he meant to her.

_I love you._

But it had never felt right.

First he'd been too sick. Then he'd been too angry, too caught up in his misery. And then she'd been a coward. Each and every day she'd know she _had_ to tell him. Had told herself he was still too sick, she'd wait another day, week or month. 

And then the shit hit the fan. And had she known how things were going to turn out - Carrie just wished she'd used their time better. 

She took her meds and tried to bring a strict regime of regularity into her life. She finally called Maggie to tell her what had happened ever since November, knowing all too well that her sister had many reasons to be angry, shocked and disappointed.

She knew the one thing Quinn would want for her, if nothing else, was to get Franny back.

And finally Franny came home - on Tuesday in February, nearly three months after the _incident_.

At night, after an improvised spaghetti dinner while watching The Lion King and dancing to Hakuna Matata, Franny fell asleep in Carrie's bed. Carrie watched her sleeping daughter for a long time and felt a moment of peace and long lost comfort.

She wished she could tell Quinn that Franny was back home though. She even asked Max if he knew where Quinn was and if he could pass the word. But Max said he had no clue and Carrie believed him.

In March, Dar sent for her and asked her to visit him in prison. Carrie was reluctant to go but finally gave in.

He asked her to find Quinn, even gave her the a name, but something from their encounter in the tunnel told her that Quinn probably did not want Dar to look for him - and therefore wasn't using that identity.

Slowly and heavily her new reality settled in: She'd lost Quinn, she'd been too late.  
   
It was different than after Missouri. That grief had been an open wound, the pain palpable and unrelenting, sending her into a downward spiral of a manic outbreak, followed by a long depressive phase.  
   
Now it was a silent certitude, weighing heavy on her heart like lead. Each and every day a constant but silent battle.  
   
Sometimes, the moment after she woke up from a dream revisiting what they’d started that one night, she dared to hope for a precious moment between sleep and wakefulness that he’d remember that night too. That he knew it had been real.  
   
_I love you Quinn._  
   
But the reality was that he was gone and she had to live with that.  
   
They spent the Easter break in Italy and seeing her daughter frolicking with her cousins in the warm sunlight of the Italian spring made Carrie happy. The girls easily reconnected and Maggie and Carrie spent long nights talking about what catastrophes had been unfolding in New York ever since Maggie and her family had left the States.  
   
Still not able to comprehend why Carrie hadn't reached out to her to ask for help, Maggie understood though why Carrie couldn't move on right now.  
   
“Take a break Carrie. Being away from it all, here”, she made a gesture indicating from the terrace towards the valley which unfolded behind the ochre wall, “certainly changes my perspective. Maybe you should allow yourself a few months without considering what's next.”  
   
Carrie extended their stay from the initially planned two weeks to a full month, and noticed that her sleep was getting better. More restful, some nights even without nightmares now.  
   
She hoped Quinn would like her taking a break with Franny.  
   
She hoped he was somewhere in a good place too, healing and finally finding some peace, without her.  
   
The long and grey winter had left New York when they finally came back on a beautiful sunny spring day. Max picked them up from the airport, and joined them for take out back home, patiently listening to Franny's chatter about their vacation.  
   
Carrie was glad for him being there, especially when she went through her mail and a single postcard hidden under a stack of invoices caught her attention.  
   
She knew it was Quinn when she saw the lighthouse, noticing the pit in her stomach opening and her knees getting weak. She had to sit down.  
   
_I kept my promise._  
   
Nothing else.  
   
_Quinn._  
   
She knew it would be the only sign she'd ever get. No goodbye, no announcement where he was or if he might be back, probably an attempt to make her feel better and move on - or something else.  
   
_Maybe, just maybe._  
   
She knew his letter by heart. But that night when Franny finally was in bed she opened the small box which she usually kept on the top shelf of her wardrobe and reread the words Quinn had written almost four years ago to the very day.  
   
\-------------------  
   
It took her almost two weeks to be able to leave New York again, this time without Franny who stayed behind with Max.  
   
She was hesitant if it was the right thing to do, afraid even so, that CPS might hold it against her should they ever learn. But the alternative was taking Franny back to Europe right away and that wasn't right either, especially as she only had a date stamp saying _Inverness_  to start with.  
   
But Max promised to make sure she went to school every day, and that he would take good care of her. CPS would never know.  
   
So Carrie gave herself ten days. Ten days to find him in case he really wanted to be found.  
   
Twenty two lighthouses in the highlands, most of them operated automatically, some hotels or private houses today, several in need for a new tenant.  
   
She’d dealt with far more difficult targets in her past.  
   
\----------------  
   
Finally Quinn decided he would leave Rua Reidh after the first weekend in May.  He had no plan where to go next, there was no real reason to stick around and he had no place he had to go to.  
   
Maybe one of the islands further north.  
   
Alistair had not mentioned the search for a new tenant again, and Quinn hadn't mentioned his plans so far and found himself avoiding the topic.  
   
He knew he was delaying his departure, and it was probably not the boat trips which made him hesitant.  
   
_She’ll never find me if I move away from here._  
   
But it was a long shot anyway, and it was almost four weeks since he’d sent that card, probably she hadn't even received it and it hadn't exactly been an invitation, so he stored that particular train of thought somewhere deep down and set the date.  
   
The first Monday in May would be a bank holiday, so they'd go fishing three days in a row and then he'd set off.  
   
\----------------------  
   
Carrie arrived Saturday afternoon.  
   
He saw her walking around the buildings and moving towards the cliffline, a small blonde figure with long and determined strides.  
   
He knew it was her, would recognize her anywhere in the world.  
   
And he knew he'd been waiting for her.  
   
So he watched her making her way down the narrow path, over grassy patches and some loose pebbles, while he slowly walked away from the waterline to meet her at the bottom of the cliff.  
   
   
Carrie saw him down at the beach when she rounded the complex of buildings. Her heartbeat had elevated - like so many times during those last days - when she'd seen the single car in the yard. She'd tried to manage her expectations each and every time she arrived at one of the buildings on her list, had spoken to farmers, managers of shops and filling stations, tenants of small hotels in those lighthouses with spectacular views and normal families who just happened to live in one of the old buildings.  
   
But now, as she finally saw his familiar figure down at the beach, about 50 yards away from her, she suddenly felt calm.  
   
She saw him turning towards her, as if he knew she was here now, and felt his eyes following her as she finally reached the beach.  
   
His hair was even longer now. Dark strains falling into his face, covering one eye.  
   
Finally he started walking in her direction.  
   
When she reached him they stopped for a brief moment, their eyes meeting. Quinn saw tears welling up in her eyes and that she was trying to suppress it, and it was that moment which broke his last resistance.  
   
But there was a hint of a smile too, the corners of her mouth curling upwards, softening her features.  
   
Carrie took the last tentative step to close the distance between them and then she felt his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. She buried her face in the wool of his sweater, smelling the sea and the wind and him.  
   
Quinn closed his eyes as he enveloped her to pull her against him, and buried his face in her blonde strands, her scent every bit as good as when he’d been allowed to hold her through that one night.  
   
It was Carrie who finally pulled back and Quinn reluctantly released her but kept an arm around her shoulder, pleased that she leant in and stayed close.  
   
“You made it easy to find you.”  
   
“Too easy?”  
   
“Hell, no.”  
   
“I was about to leave. In a day or two.”  
   
Carrie was silent for a long while and he knew she was contemplating his words, probably musing about the other times they'd missed and lost each other.  
   
“Well, then. I have a flight back stateside in two days.”  
   
Carrie felt his grip tightening around her shoulder, and allowed herself to settle into his side for a moment longer, her head against his chest, relishing the moment. No thinking what's next, just him.  
   
_I couldn't let you go. I can't lose you, I told you long ago._  
   
\---------------------  
   
Quinn avoided eye contact when they were back to the building and he collected his few belongings and so Carrie simply stood by the window and watched the waves and the clouds, wondering how he’d been during all these months.  
   
_Five months. Here. Alone._  
   
She didn't comment on the obvious lack of heating, warm water, cooked meals, or a warm blanket even, if this was what he'd needed, this emptiness, and was better now, then so be it.  
   
They hadn't talked down at the beach. God, they hadn't even kissed, not counting the moment his lips had briefly brushed over her forehead when he'd clutched her tightly before they had detached to walk back.  
   
But he’d started to pack his small bag right away, was folding the blanket now and then turned towards the door.  
   
_Classic Quinn. Wasting not a single word. Decision made, execution without further delays._  
   
His walking was better. Still a limp leg but less obvious. And he used his left arm to hold the bag in place. Apparently he couldn't flex his fingers but was able to move the arm.  
   
Carrie realized that she had had no idea what to expect and how to react once she found him. She hadn't dared to hope, that was why. Had promised herself not to hold any expectations. Just to go and find him in case he wanted to be found. Reaching out for him and either bringing him back or letting him go.  
   
“I need to re-”, his speech was better but still he got stuck with certain words, funny, how the analytical part of her brain took it all in and processed it, “give back that car. Inverness. And a stop on the way. So, where are-”, he paused and finally looked at her, his eyes dark and his emotions contained, “you going.”  
   
_Still avoiding the we, still careful. But this is a decision you have to make._  
   
She hadn't planned this journey, had taken it day by day, had slept in guesthouses along the way, it was still very early in the season, so it hadn't been difficult to find a place for the night. So she had no idea where to go to now. But no local guesthouse, no chitchat with locals.  
   
“The Balmoral. Edinburgh”, was the only name she could come up with, noticing that he didn't know the name.  
   
“It has a clock tower”, she added, her voice trailing off.  
   
“I’ll find it”, he briefly touched the back of her hand but then let go again, “I’ll be there.”  
   
Quinn watched her leaving, and noticed he needed that, a last moment alone here.  
   
Later, when driving down to Inverness along Loch Ness, and then in the train to Edinburgh, he thought he needed that too.  
   
A period of transition.  
   
And probably Carrie needed a break too. Some time to adjust. And a decision from his side.  
   
He was afraid. Of course he was. To fuck things up, to be too broken, to misread her, all of that. But at the same time there was a sense of serenity. He’d put an ocean between them and yet she'd found him.  
   
So he could follow her for the last 200 miles.  
   
He stopped to say goodbye to Alistair on the way, and following a sudden urge he entered a small barber’s shop opposite of Inverness station, getting a haircut and a shave.  
   
\----------------  
   
Carrie's certitude shriveled, with each mile she put between them.  
   
But this was a decision he himself had to make.  
   
It was late afternoon when she arrived in the hotel, apparently a Scottish institution with its grand façade and the large clock tower, right in the heart of the historic city, she could see the castle from her window.  
   
Having no idea what to do with herself now while waiting for Quinn, she just sat in one of the overstuffed chair near the fireplace, amazed that there was a real fire dancing behind the spark protector, and ordered tea, which arrived a few minutes later, dark and bitter in fragile bone china.  
   
Carrie poured a dash of cream into the brown and steaming liquid, watching as it swirled and expanded and finally disappeared, making the colour of her drink creamy and a little less dark.  
   
_Like a ray of light into the darkness._  
   
The receptionist called her at just after eight, saying she had a visitor, a Mister Quinn Reece.  
   
She asked him to send Mr Reece to her room and felt an excited tingle in her stomach.  
   
_Quinn Reece._  
   
She opened when she heard the soft knock, and there he was, filling the door jamb as he took a step forward when the door was open.  
   
She watched him stepping over the threshold, his movements much more smoothly than they'd been five months ago when he’d stepped out of her life.  
   
Quinn dropped his bag on a rack, next to Carrie’s small suitcase, and then took off his jacket. Just then he stepped into the large and cozy room. The flames in the fireplace cast a warm glow and some sparks were emitted as one log just broke in two glowing pieces.  
   
Carrie watched him as he took in the room and then slowly turned to her, his features soft, his eyes resting on her face.  
   
“Nice place”, were the first words he said.  
   
“It was the only hotel I knew”, Carrie shrugged, suddenly feeling awkward, “but yes it's nice. Cozy. You chose a fucking freezing country. At least the nights are still ridiculously cold.”  
   
“Yeah, probably they are.”  
   
He stepped closer, closing the distance between them and Carrie felt the warmth radiating from his body. Suddenly tears were welling up in her eyes, as she felt the tension drawing out of her body.  
   
“Hey”, his hand cupped her cheek and made her look at him, “you really want to talk about the weather?”  
   
Carrie shook her head, suddenly unable to speak.  
   
“Good”, she saw the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled, “and you thought I w-wouldn't come.”  
   
“I wasn't sure, no”, Carrie said, her voice soft and low.  
   
“So will Mr Reece need to book his own room?”  
   
Quinn brushed his thumb over her cheekbone as his eyes locked with hers.  
   
“I don't think so, no, not necessarily.”  
   
“That's”, he paused, his hand still cupping her cheek, the tips of his fingers callous on her skin, “good. I-”  
   
And then the time for words was over, neither of them spoke when Quinn’s hand trailed down her jawline, her neck, rested on her shoulder and went to the back of her nape, a steady and reassuring weight.  
   
It was a tender kiss, tentative and soft at first, gentle exploring and finding each other. Quinn pressed her even closer when her hands came up to his nape, feeling the freshly cut hairline.  
   
Carrie wasn't prepared for the wave of emotions which rippled through her core when she felt Quinn’s left arm closing around her waist, much less firm than his right arm around her shoulders but holding her steady.  
   
“Just one thing”, Quinn broke the kiss, his voice hoarse and low, but kept holding her close, his forehead pressed against hers, “no g-guilt, no pity. Can you-?”  
   
“Promise that? Yes.”  
   
When they kissed again, Carrie parted her lips and received him, feeling him holding her as they deepened their kiss.  
   
They took it slow, long and ardent kisses while slowly undressing, kissing each inch of skin revealed, their hands carefully mapping their bodies, rediscovering the landscape of desire and yearning.  
   
Quinn broke the kiss to slowly move them towards the large bed at the opposite end of the room, away from the fireplace. When they reached the bed, he sat down, pulling Carrie between his legs, his hands on her hips. He looked up to her and the emotions she saw welling up in his eyes nearly broke her.  
   
“Quinn…”  
   
“Sshht,” Quinn sighed before he pressed his mouth against her naked abdomen, his good hand roaming over her back now, following the curve of her spine.  
   
“Get that off,” he whispered when his hand reached the clasp of her bra, and Carrie reached back to open the little hooks while Quinn didn't take his eyes off her.  
   
Slowly, she peeled the straps from her shoulders, moved them down her arms and flapped the cups away.  
   
“You’re fucking beautiful Carrie,” his voice was low and strained, and then the pressure of his hand on her back made her move forward, and he stabilized her with his hand splayed on her back as his mouth trailed upwards, from her tummy to the valley between her breasts and then across the soft swelling until he finally reached the peak, leaving soft butterfly kisses everywhere and then started licking with slow laps around her nipple.  
   
It was intense. Like everything he did.  
   
She felt dizzy and all she could do to not to lose it right away was to hold onto his shoulders, one hand in his hair now, pressing him closer and longing for more friction.  
   
But he wouldn't give her that, not now.  
   
First his lips moved over to her other breast, gently nipping her skin, and then licking her nipple.  
   
His right hand followed the curve of her spine southbound now again, and then slipped into the back of her underwear, while his mouth kept savouring the small bud.  
   
She would make amends soon, very soon, but this was what she wanted for him, for them, time to explore and indulge in pleasure, time to find each other again and not to ever let go again.  
   
She knew he felt her wetness when he eased down her panties and slipped his hand between her legs, his eyes dark with desire, and his lips curved in a smile.  
   
Carrie bent her head to meet his mouth again, kissing him deep and open mouthed, feeling his fingers fleeting over her labia, elusive and tantalizing. His breathing gave him away, he wanted this as much as she did, and when she reached down and started palming him through the fabric of his briefs he gasped, and then started moaning against her mouth.  
   
“God. Carrie.”  
   
Carrie helped him to shove down his briefs, and when he sat back on the mattress he took her with him and pulled her in to straddle him.  
   
She rubbed herself against him, supported by his hand on her hips, governing a slow pace, and then she came up on her knees and sank down on him while he lined himself up at her entrance.  
   
They stilled and took a moment to allow themselves to feel, overwhelmed and breathless, and then Carrie lowered herself further down, until Quinn was completely surrounded by her.  
   
Quinn's right hand was tangled into her hair now, the feeling of his fingers on her scalp causing a pleasant tingle, and when they started moving he bent her neck backwards to give himself access to her neck, buried his face their and kissed and nuzzled the soft and delicate skin.  
   
His breathing was ragged, she felt his breath hot and irregular on her skin, and then he pressed her down to the hilt of his cock, his arm around her hip and his hand in her hair keeping her there. His lips brushed over her earlobe, nipped at the sensitive skin there, causing her whole body to buck.  
   
“I want to make this last, Carrie. No rush. Cause if you keep moving like you just did-”  
   
And with that he clutched her even closer to his chest and carefully sank back into the soft cushions and blankets of their bed, still buried deep inside her.  
   
Carrie thought he wanted her on top but once they lay on the comforter, two very pleasurable movements of their hips included, Quinn slowly maneuvered to lie on his left side, pulling Carrie a little upwards with his stronger arm.  
   
It required a few more little adjustments but then his left arm was curled around her shoulder, her head supported by the crook of his elbow, his right leg sliced between her legs and her upper leg encircled his hips, bent and locked on top of his knee. That way, she opened up even more for him, he was deep, with a restricted range and pace, moving slowly, while holding her with both arms now.  
   
Carrie had never experienced anything like this before, being engulfed by his body, the bulk of his chest against her torso, his arm holding her, his right hand caressing her back, ass and thighs as he gently moved deep inside her, so slow and so good, and the intimacy of it nearly made her cry and laugh and crave for more, all at the same time. She joined his slow rhythm by canting her hips and kneading his ass, he couldn't be close enough and deep enough. Quinn felt her body trembling under his touch, felt her pressing herself closer to him, stimulating her clit by rubbing against his abdomen, and when she slightly moved her head and looked into his eyes before kissing him open-mouthed, he was close, so close.  
   
Holding Carrie, being wrapped around her, feeling her arms around him, moving inside her, feeling her moan against his lips, her mouth possessing his, now she sucked his lower lip, gentle biting, inhaling the scent of her body, feeling her desire - _for me, this is about Carrie and me_ -, feeling and hearing how much she enjoyed their love making, and keeping his movements slow and deep, dissolving in pleasure - there hadn't been a single moment in his life when he'd felt more _alive_.  
   
Quinn brought his right hand between them when he felt his orgasm starting its inevitable ascend, coiling up at the base of his spine, just a moment longer or two, brushed his thumb over her clit, and feeling her clenching around him, her body bucking in his arms, grinding himself into her once more, savouring all of her, _God, Carrie_ \- and then he was there too, spreading his release into her while she gasped against his mouth, made soft rapid whimpers and kept kissing him.  
   
Carrie felt her climax ringing through every cell of her body, blown away by the beautiful intimacy and closeness of their love making, slow and tender seduction, souls finally in synch for a precious moment in time.  
   
_I found you. I got you back. I didn't lose you._  
   
She enjoyed holding him through their afterglow, his body giving a gentle thrust every now and then, feeling his heart racing against the soft swell of her breast, trailed her fingers along the ridiculously sweet curve of his spine, and was mesmerized by the longing she saw in his eyes when they finally broke the kiss and he pulled back a little, his eyes resting on her face.  
   
“Stay like this,” she whispered, not willing to let him go yet.  
   
Quinn buried his head in the hollow between her shoulder and neck, exhaling slowly and trying to even his breathing. Her hand went into his hair, cradling him and holding him close, feeling the heat of his breathing on her skin.  
   
They didn't speak for a long while, just enjoyed holding each other close, gentle movements and kisses extending their pleasure, and slowly descended.  
   
Quinn finally pulled out of her with a sigh, only to cradle her in his arms again immediately.  
   
And this was how they lay for a long time, her body molding into his, the events of the day still feeling wondrously to them.  
   
“Why did you come?” Quinn finally asked with a low voice, his hand back to caressing her back.  
   
Carrie breathed a short laugh, and he was instantly in love with that sound.  
   
“Dexter hands and advanced seduction?”, she chuckled but then sobered and moved back a little to look at him, “I kept asking myself if I _really_ managed to convey what _this_ is, what _you_ are for me. And I asked myself - if he wants me to find him, maybe, just maybe, but what if I didn't make enough effort and miss him again, this time forever and ultimately… so…”, her voice trailed off and she studied his face.  
   
“I’m still as fucked up as I was when I left.”  
   
“Matter of perception”, stern voice, but with a small smile.

“You were right”, his voice softened, “I wanted you to find me. But I had to do it on my own.”  
   
“And that's over now?”  
   
“No. But this here,” he dipped a kiss on her shoulder, “this here and _you_ , let’s just say it's stronger. Always was.”  
   
Carrie nodded, probably to indicate that his words made sense to her, but he knew she wasn't done yet.  
   
But she surprised him, _again_.  
   
“At some point, we should probably talk. But not now.”  
   
And with that she curled deeper into his embrace, kissed him tantalizingly slow, pulling back whenever he wanted to deepen the kiss, and it was ridiculous how fast she had him _there_ again, that all his fucked up brain could think about how to get back to making love with her.  
   
Afterwards she lay curled into his good side, her arm limp across his chest, he felt a thin sheen of sweat on her back, and just moved once more to pull up the comforter around their shoulders.  
   
They both lay awake for some time longer, watching the last embers in the fireplace smoldering as darkness settled around them.  
   
Quinn got up once, when he was sure that Carrie was sound asleep, and got his meds, for the first time in a year feeling the pleasure he’d had was worth the cramps he now had.  
   
Carrie rolled over to him when she sensed his presence back at her side, placed a sleepy kiss on his shoulder and then turned to her side.  
   
Quinn settled next to her, waiting for his meds to do their magic, listening to her breathing, and slowly drifted into sleep as well, his hand resting on her hip.  
   
_I can't do it on my own. And I don't need to._  
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of this story. They will face problems along their way, Quinn is still a very sick man and Carrie is Carrie. But they found each other again and treasure what they have. I believe in them, they will be able to navigate through it, together.
> 
> Chapter 6 will be an alternate ending to this story.
> 
> This story wouldn't exist without the friendship and help of Zeffy, Laure and SNAQ. Thank you girls!


	6. Ending II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an alternative ending, picking up right after chapter 4 but exploring a very different road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was born on a Sunday morning when Zeffy and I were brainstorming over sweet mushy fics we want to write.

The morning after Quinn left Carrie woke up late, her sleep had been a merciful break of the painful reality which settled in now.

_He's gone. Whatever I gave it wasn't enough. And how could it?_

His scent was still lingering in her pillows and sheets, and when she finally moved she felt tender and a little sore, a sweet remembrance of what they'd shared last night. 

Their love making had been exactly this - making love, conveying what they were to each other, wordlessly telling him how much she loved him.

In a way it was very fitting with their history that they only were able to admit it when they were about to separate, Carrie thought, wishing it were different.

She pictured him in a plane now, leaving the US for his self chosen quest, traveling through Germany to see Astrid's family.

_To him, it's always about giving, never about taking anything for himself._

It broke her heart to think about how Astrid's death weighed heavily on his shoulders and what her loss must mean to him. Thinking about him returning to Germany, forcing himself back to Berlin after everything he'd been through there, made her eyes well up with tears again.

She needed to report back to the FBI soon but she decided to give herself this, an hour or two more in bed, closing her eyes, indulging in his scent and the memory of the night before.

She knew he'd keep his promise. And for once she didn't feel bad for using his usual softness when it came to her. If this was what was going to make him survive-

"Quinn," she whispered, and curled into the pillow he'd used the night before, finally let go, and allowed the tears to come.

\-------------

Three hours later Carrie sat in a senior FBI agent's office, giving her testimony, Reda at her side.

Afterwards she took a taxi to Saul's hospital. He was still weak, deaf on one ear due to a ruptured ear drum, but he'd be okay, in a week or two. He asked her to call Mira.

She promised him to meet her and talk to her.

But she couldn't give him a _yes_ for his other request.

"Carrie, I - we - need you now. Your country needs you."

"I need time."

"That's not a _no_."

"And it's not a _yes_. I won't make any decision before I have Franny back."

"Can we talk about it again then?"

"Yes. And now you need to rest."

"Carrie. One more thing," she could here he was tired, "Quinn. Where is he now?"

"He's safe."

"He has to leave the country. There are things going on we don't understand yet and-"

"He already did."

"I'm sorry Carrie."

Carrie didn't answer, just took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before she left.

Carrie met Elizabeth for lunch, and told her she'd support her until her inauguration but turned down the offer to join her team.

She was there when Elizabeth addressed the people of the United States via a speech broadcasted nationwide. And she finally broke her promise and told Elizabeth what she needed to know about Dar. It didn't matter anymore, he was getting prosecuted for treason and the evidence was overwhelming even without Carrie's statement.

Elizabeth asked her to join her flight to Washington the next day to meet the president, she would get a temporary office in Washington for the time of the investigation of the riots and until her inauguration.

So Carrie agreed on spending the next day and then a few days every week there till end of January.

Next and last entry on her list for that day was Max. Max who didn't say anything when she entered the café where they'd agreed to meet but got up and hugged her tightly.

"He's gone, right?"

Carrie nodded, she couldn't talk about it.

"Did the two of you finally talk?"

Carrie nodded again, fighting back the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Hey, Carrie", Max squeezed her hand and didn't let go, "did you eat anything today? Taken a moment to sit and drink a cup of tea? Cause that's what we do now. And about the rest - we'll figure it out. Okay?"

\-----------------

 

Three weeks later, on Christmas morning, she knew she was pregnant.

There had been some signs all week long, her breasts had suddenly felt swollen and oversensitive to any kind of touch, alone putting on a bra felt like a mild form of masochist behaviour, and out of nowhere her sense of smell was like an unwanted superpower. Which resulted in feeling nauseated almost all day, and when the morning sickness kicked in, and the mere thought of coffee was disgusting, Carrie realized what all this might point to.

This time she only bought one test and did it in the wee hours of Christmas morning. She didn't even have to wait five minutes, the pink line appeared strongly and unmistakably after mere seconds.

_Very Quinn, in a way._

There was no joy, no panic, no _what will I do_. 

_If_ he ever came back she couldn't tell him how there'd been a baby and she'd decided not to keep it. She'd decided to keep Franny and it had been the _best_ decision in her life - and the one which had made her most vulnerable - and there was no way how she could _not_ have this baby, Quinn's baby. 

Thinking about how to tell him there was a baby and he fathered the kid was equally unthinkable but as there were only these two choices - what else could she do?

Carrie pulled a cardigan around her shoulders and went down to the basement for the first time, the pregnancy test still in her hand. She placed it on the kitchen counter and stood there in the dark, overwhelmed by Quinn's absence and the emptiness she felt.

There was no joy either. Fear, yes. But no joy. 

She took a few tentative steps, remembering the day she'd brought him here.

A lot went wrong. Had so even before that day. And even more so after she brought him here.

_Why didn't I ask him upstairs? Why didn't I tell him why I saved him? Why didn't I tell him the truth?_

His scent had faded from her pillows and sheets but now as she curled in his bed there still was a faint lingering hint of him.

Carrie closed her eyes and revisited the memory of their one night together for the first time, allowing the pain to roll over her and take everything away from her. Quinn's tenderness and devotion, how he'd held her and offered her comfort when she'd cried in Franny's room, not asking for anything for himself but selflessly just giving. 

How a tender kiss then had turned into so much _more_. The beautiful intimacy and intensity of their love making. The unbearable sadness she'd felt that night and ever since. His hands on her skin, his mouth on hers, exploring her body, how his skin tasted, how his breathing had changed when she'd touched him, his eyes taking her in, for once not hiding his emotions. 

With him, feeling _loved_ suddenly had been real, for these precious few hours, albeit she'd known all the way he'd leave before dawn.

Carrie felt a longing she hadn't known before and she knew that this was why she hadn't allowed herself to revisit the memory of that night before. Missing Quinn was visceral, his absence was an open wound.

She remembered sitting on his lap, straddling him and sinking down onto him, his suppressed moan in her ear, how he'd filled and stretched her, his hand splayed on her back. 

Her nipples were oversensitive to her touch, a jolt, almost too intense, struck through her body when she started kneading them.

She remembered Quinn licking and sucking them, his hardon pressed against her crotch, how he'd been gentle first, soft and teasing laps with his tongue. And then, when he he'd sensed her reaction, sucking and gentle and then not so gentle nibbling.

She felt herself shivering when she let her hand travel south, between her legs, dipping into her own wetness, while recalling the moment she'd started to move herself in Quinn's lap, his eyes and hand roaming over her body, how deep he'd been, her clit rubbing against his firm abdomen, his ragged breathing and his deep moans, the imminent sense of loss, his cock thrusting deep and each thrust releasing a wave of pleasure for her, Quinn's hand in her hair, holding her and guiding her her, Quinn's mouth on hers, the muscles of his ass working under her hands, driving himself deeper into her.

Dipping the tip of her finger into her own wetness, she then used the moist finger to circle her clit, feeling oversensitive to her own touch. She'd come fast and intense, and she couldn't stop thinking of Quinn, how he'd worked inside her, his hand worshipping the curves of her body, his mouth savouring hers. Carrie moved her finger back to her entrance, dipped it in and moved it out again several times, hearing her own breathing accelerating, pressing her face into Quinn's pillow, inhaling him, and she came with a soft cry when she rubbed her swollen clit again with two wet fingers, feeling herself trembling as her orgasm washed over her, hard and sharp.

Afterwards she cried.

She couldn't stop, not even when she finally had found her way under the shower, the faint smell of the shower gel she'd given him still lingering in the cubicle. 

Carrie stood there and sobbed as the water washed over her, completely spent before the day had even started.

_How am I supposed to do that? How? I couldn't even keep Franny. How can I mother another kid? But how can I decide against it?_

Her skin was red and itchy when she finally stepped out of the shower and suddenly her vision was fading to black and she felt dizzy and tired and -

Carrie didn't know how long she'd been passed out when she came back and found herself in the corner between the toilet and the shower cubicle. She lay on her back and the back of her head hurt so she'd probably stumbled and fallen that way. Still her mind was clouded, like a grey sticky fog, and her hands were shaking. But she could get up and walk. No lump, no blood, she noticed when feeling up the back of her head.

_Dammit._

She knew how things would have been between Quinn and her, he'd ask her for two things: Taking care of herself _and the baby_ and doing everything she had to do get Franny back.

Both meant to have breakfast now, and then to get ready for the Christmas lunch date with Franny.

This was today. Making a doctor's appointment to adjust her meds was the next step and then she'd take it day by day.

And that was what she did then. Nobody knew she was pregnant and she didn't plan on telling anyone soon. Alone the thought that Christine Lonas might find out and figured who the _father_ was...

Carrie set herself on autopilot. Avoiding to explore her emotions to thoroughly. Saving her child, her president, her mentor, her country or whatever shit Saul wanted her to believe.

 _Not_ saving Dar's ass. Although she visited him several times. He never asked for Quinn, just asked her to arrange a meeting with Keane.

Carrie didn't know _why_ she helped him. But somehow his apologetic _It was never my intention that things would turn so dark, and ultimately I couldn't stop what I set in motion_ rang true with her. 

He'd be in jail for a _very_ long time, McClendon probably for the rest of his life, two senators as well.

Carrie saw Mira for lunch every now and then. Saul had tried to reconnect with Mira but she had turned him down, hurt that he thought he could turn back time.

She spoke to Maggie every now and then, each and every time dishing out a new lie why Franny was too busy to talk to her and her cousins.

She avoided Max. Sweet gentle good Max. Afraid that he might see through her and confront her.

One of the perks of her pregnancy was the exhaustion. Whenever she lay down to rest, sleep overcame her in mere seconds, and it was coma-deep sleep.

Sometimes she saw Quinn in her dreams, mostly far away and blurred. She wanted to call him, but was voiceless.

After three months the noticed a soft swell in the curve of her abdomen. Small enough to hide it for many more weeks, but _there_.

_You were made with love._

That was what she whispered each and every night, even if she didn't feel that way during these long winter months.

It was too late now to consider abortion and even if she still _knew_ that she hadn't wanted to go down that road - it was fucking hard. So hard, to do this again. Alone again.

_Carrying a child. Quinn's child._

There were nights when she felt a hot burning anger, that he'd left her, had walked away because he couldn't deal with himself and her.

Other nights she was just unbearably sad.

Many nights she tried not to feel anything at all.

She tried to find Quinn via some old agency contacts but it was a hopeless undertaking to begin with.

_You have to let me go._

Franny came home in March, the day after the first jonquils had opened their pretty yellow heads in the backyard.

And with Franny's return to her life the worst of winter was over.

After a week Carrie found herself booking flights to Italy. She'd stopped working with Elisabeth end of February - a month later than intended - and hadn't made a decision about the agency yet so she was free to go where she wanted to go.

So it was Italy. A tuscan mansion outside of Siena, where Bill was teaching this year. 

It was good to see Franny reconnecting with her cousins and Maggie and Bill, the only family they had. 

Morning sickness had been a constant companion for the first three months of her pregnancy but now Carrie was starting to feel better. Some energy came back and she enjoyed taking Franny on trips to nearby villages, buying vegetables and fruits in the markets, sitting in a café and sipping a Cappuccino and nibbling an almond pastry while her sweet girl was indulging in ice cream. Carrie caught herself smiling when she thought about what Quinn would say about her coffee intake. She pictured him following her pregnancy with a guidebook checklist, _no coffee, but vitamins, meat for iron, no raw cheeses but at least five portions of fruit and veggies each day_.

She remembered her pregnancy with Franny and her cravings for _Butterfinger_. She'd found one on her desk nearly every morning, often next to a cup of tea.

Back then she'd been too deep down the rabbit hole to contemplate what it meant, what he offered her, how much he cared, but now it brought tears to her eyes. 

She wondered if he had been around during his ex's pregnancy. Probably. Quinn wasn't one to duck away from responsibility.

Quite often she took Franny and the girls to the beach for the weekends, the sea was still cold this early in the year but the kids didn't mind and had fun frolicking around.

Watching the Italian families and a few tourists spending their time by the sea, she wondered what she had been thinking when she'd decided to have that baby. If Quinn ever was going to come back he certainly wouldn't play house with her. But on the other hand... he'd been longing for _normal life_ for so long and this here _was_ normal life. 

Carrie hadn't told Maggie about her pregnancy yet. Telling her about all the things which had happened since last August, when they'd seen each other the last time, had been hard enough.

Maggie had tried, really _tried_ , to contain any hypercritical reaction. But _trying_ hadn't meant that she'd been successful. And Carrie understood. Of course she did. She'd fucked it up. She'd almost lost Franny and there was nothing to add to this.

Franny bounced back in a way only children mastered. She was her usually happy and sweet self, sometimes asked how Quinn was doing, if he was getting better, if they could visit him but nothing else. 

Carrie knew that only her daughter and her family were keeping her away from depression. She couldn't increase the dose of her mood stabilizers but a regular day to day pattern, lots of sun and outdoor time, being forced to interact with her family each and every day were helpful, she _knew_ that. And yet it was fucking hard.

Back in winter, she'd told herself that Quinn would come back. She'd made him promise, and if Quinn was one thing, it was this: reliable. But now, after so many weeks, doubt started to settle in. 

_Why would he come back? Better run for the hills. Better stay away. He was right, I made him this way. I made this stroke. And then I lied to him. And if he comes back, and feels trapped into something he never wanted, never had a say in..._

These were the thoughts she had late at night, alone in her bedroom.

She bought some loose linen tunics and dresses, supposedly because of the heat, but they served well when it came to hiding her increasing belly. Still small but obvious.

She knew she had to talk to Maggie but postponed it day by day. 

She found an English speaking gynecologist in Florence and went there twice for check ups, and learnt she was carrying a baby girl.

During the same week, one night when Carrie lay in bed after putting Franny to bed and going for a walk through the pine bosk with Maggie, she felt an elusive flutter, almost like a butterfly touch, against the wall of her abdomen. It was the first time Carrie cried in Italy.

Silently, biting in the heel of her hand to prevent herself from sobbing, while the little worm was finally bringing up the size and strength to remind her of his existence.

After a while, little Tinkerbell went back to sleep again, leaving Carrie sleepless all night.

Carrie felt her every once in awhile then, a tiny fluttery reminder of the new life growing in her belly. 

They were in Italy almost six weeks now and Carrie knew she was facing some decisions. First, she wouldn't be able to hide her pregnancy forever. Second, the annual lease for the brownstone would expire end of the month and she had to decide whether to extend it for another year or not. Which came with the question of her professional future. She knew they wouldn't go back to New York so she arranged the brownstone to be emptied by the moving company which had done their move from Germany. Their belongings were boxed and stored in a storage unit for as long as they hadn't a place to go to. 

Carrie knew she should have told Franny - and Maggie - but somehow she didn't have the energy to talk about any of this.

And so she just postponed Franny's and her flight back for some more weeks, enjoying to watch her daughter's happiness to spend so much time with her and their family.

Summer came early in Italy, the days got longer and longer, the light got bright and glaring, being outside during midday became almost unbearable. But the long warm evenings were an oasis of peace. The warm light bathing the ochre walls in all kinds of yellow and red, crickets chirping, a breeze coming down the hills and bringing some much needed refreshment. The girls, even Franny, stayed up late, but started the habit of having a midday nap, and so did Carrie as well. 

Her feet and legs were getting heavy and swollen throughout the day and she was secretly longing for the moment when she could retreat to the relative coolness of her room and put her feet up.

This was the one hour each day she allowed herself to think about Quinn. 

_Five, almost six months now._

 

\-----------------

Quinn left Rua Reidh early in May. He knew he had been waiting for her, but she hadn't come. Either she hadn't received his card, or she hadn't picked up the hint, or she'd decided to just let him go.

Either way, he couldn't stay longer in his self-chosen asylum.

With having no place to go to, no mission requiring his presence, and no person who was waiting for him anywhere in the world - he was free, at last.

And finally that was what made him decide to do something he'd have never considered in his old life, which had been about efficiency, effectiveness, and where missing an exact window of time usually had caused people to die - he walked. From the North of Scotland all the way south, crossing the country by foot.

Alistair had told him that there was only one thing which still might help him to make progress: relentless repetition of movements combined with stimulation of the still numb parts of his body. So he'd start with walking. 700 miles southbound.

He knew he was walking towards her, just playing for time and giving himself an excuse to prolong talking to her.

_It's probably been a no. But I need to hear it from herself. Cause maybe. Just if._

It took him almost two and a half months. In the beginning he didn't make more than five miles a day before the cramps made every step unbearable. He'd bought a sleeping bag so he could crash anywhere in the remote areas of the highlands. Every couple of days, or when the weather was too rainy, he slept in a guesthouse, restocked on food, had a shower and a decent meal and then hit the road again the next morning.

After two weeks he started to increase the distance by half a mile each day, working with relentless determination against the pain.

_This is when breakthroughs happen. Oh yes, Carrie, fucking moto shit, and now I'm doing it myself._

He had no map and no plan, just southbound, and for the first time in his adult life he just took it day by day. Some days his mind wandered, some days it was just joyously blank and empty.

He started to do hand flexes, three sets of three hundred three times a day. Alistair had given him a little prickly ball a while ago and had told him to use his good hand to close his left around that ball, to hold it a second or two, and then to release it, just to do it again then. It hurt, but pain meant his nerves were transmitting _something_ , so fuck it.

Strangely enough he had no nightmares when sleeping outside. Those were exclusively reserved for nights spent indoors. So just another reason to sleep outside as often as he could.

He often woke up in the middle of the night, the nights were short now in June, and then he just lay there and listened to the sounds around him and saw dawn turning the sky purple, then a lighter blue with streaks of yellow, a moment of greyish just before sunrise and then another day rose.

He avoided larger cities, not that there were many anyway, but chose small hamlets and villages for his breaks from the great outdoors.

Every now and then he saw Carrie in his dreams. Once he dreamt of their love making. The scenery changed, it wasn't a dark winter night anymore, she was here with him, what a weird dream, and he knew all the way he was dreaming, but there she was, beneath him, holding him, moaning his name, receiving him, rocking her hips and begging him to fuck her harder and- 

He woke up with his hand around his throbbing cock, finishing himself off with a few angry and hard strokes, spilling into his own hand and feeling a wave of disgust and selfloathing.

 _It's not that she still wants you asshole_.

The next day he walked into the next city, went for a haircut and bought some toiletries and box with condoms, took quarters in a hotel near the university, and blended into the crowd when the summer language classes finished in the afternoon, following the group of students from all over the world to their riverside chats and picnics and later to their nightly pub crawl. A cute dark haired mid twenties met his glance twice down at the river, her hand went through her hair, long and curly, and then she smiled and looked away, engaging in a conversation with two friends. Spanish if his lip reading skills weren't fucked too.

She was tall and had a nice bosom and a sweet round ass and a gorgeous smile, which she flashed twice into his direction when he sipped his drink at the bar in the ridiculously traditional pub playing bagpipe music as background sound.

She came to get herself a drink, and when she'd emptied her glass - red wine - Quinn ordered another one and waited for her to come back to the bar.

When she did a few minutes later, he shifted to look at her.

"This one's on me."

"Oldest line in the world."

"N-no, that would be _you've got beautiful eyes_ , and I didn't say that."

She sat on the stool next to him, he smelled a hint of her perfume, sweet and flowery, and when she reached for the stem of her glass her small finger briefly brushed over the back of his hand.

"How about _Are you here alone_?"

"Nah, that's lame."

"So suddenly _I_ have to engage _you_ in a conversation?", she faked incredulity with a gorgeous smile.

Quinn shrugged, playing along and suddenly feeling good. Her good mood was rubbing off on him, and she was a sweet flirty companion, easy to talk to.

"I already bought you the wine."

"Well, as you haven't paid yet", she took his beer coaster from under his glass, leaning in a fraction of a second longer than necessary, gave the barman a nod and threw twenty Pounds on the countertop, "so, what now, mysterious stranger?"

"I guess I need to make us even. C-can't let that stand", and with that he gave the guy a sign for two more glasses, a wine for her, beer for himself.

"So", she sipped her drink and tilted her head, "what are you doing here? Assuming you are not the new summer school professor."

"Which subjects?"

"So you are a professor?"

"Didn't say that."

"You're no teacher material. And no classic OE backpacker kind of guy. So what's your dark secret?"

"What's yours?"

She leant in, flashed that gorgeous smile again, her curls dancing.

"I'm addicted to coffee. So if you get me a decent _cafecito_ I might follow you anywhere."

And with that she raised and went down the hallway to the bathrooms.

Quinn had seen a coffee shop just around the corner so-

He paid, raised and followed her down the small hallway leading to the shabby bathrooms, there she was, she smiled and leaned against the wall when she saw him.

"Right here? Even before coffee?", she quipped with a giggle when he stood right in front of her.

"I have no idea what you're talking about", he replied, feeling himself smiling too, but took the cue when she angled her chin upwards and bent down to kiss her.

The coffee shop was still open, she had an Americano, black and no sugar, and her brown eyes were resting on his face over the rim of her mug when she raised it and drank.

A few minutes later she led him back to the university's main building, to the backside, where they found a small tangly garden with some old trees. Now after nightfall the place was deserted. Pulling him to the backside of a small cottage, the signpost said "Garden Library", the woman kissed him again, with urgency and heat now, he tasted the red wine on her tongue and a hint of coffee.

Her skin felt smooth and hot, the heat of the day still radiating from her body whereas the stones of the cottage where cold and humid.

She laughed when he produced a condom from his pocket but helped him to roll it down, hesitating for a brief moment when she noticed his left hand being useless.

"Does it hurt?", she asked with a low voice, her hands around his ass now while he was kneading her breast with his right.

"It doesn't. At least not now."

They fucked against that wall, she was panting against his mouth and came hard and fast and took him over the edge too when she was clenching around him.

Afterwards they stilled for a moment, and then a moment longer, foreheads touching.

"Hi. I'm Anna", she said then, with a tingling giggle.

"Peter. My pleasure."

And then they both laughed, and it was a good moment.

He walked her home to her student accommodation shortly after, she kissed him goodbye, whispered "Have a good summer, mysterious stranger", and he left the town the before sunrise, after a few hours of rest.

\-----------------

Maggie found out on a Saturday.

Carrie had meant to tell her all week but there always had been _something_. One day Josie had cut her finger and needed a tetanus shot, another day Maggie had had a migraine and one day had simply been too good to spoil it with breaking news.

They had planned to take the kids to the beach all week and were about to leave early, and Carrie decided to tell Maggie that very night, rain or shine.

They prepared the picnic and Maggie and the girls packed the car. Carrie went back upstairs to change her dress as she'd spilled some coffee, her ankles already hurting that early in the day. Hopefully bathing them in the Mediterranean would bring some relief.

Her belly was getting too round and too protruding to hide it much longer, and she'd gained two cup sizes for her bossom.

_Well, you only see what you want to see._

Last night when she stood naked in front of the mirror in her room she wondered if Quinn would like seeing her this way, her breasts swollen and oversensitive to touch, her belly round and firm. Sometimes when the baby was moving strongly enough she could feel her movements now with her hand. 

The thought of Quinn lying next her and tracing the baby's - she didn't dare to think _their baby’s_ \- movements through her naked skin made her crave for - him, for not being so alone, for having _that_. For him telling her she was beautiful nevertheless, or even more so. For watching him when he felt the baby for the first time, she thought his face would give it all away, wonder, love, surprise, fear. He would be that kind of guy, right? He would be with her, and share her fears and maybe-

Last night she had cried herself to sleep. Because what made her think that Quinn wouldn't run for the hills as fast as he could? Why would she indulge in playing house-fantasies, when the reality was as harsh and brutal as it was? He'd left and he wouldn't come back. And why would he?

She was used to these mood swings but still it was difficult, given the hormonal overflow in her system even more so. 

Right now, in the soft dawn behind the closed shutters of her bedroom she was back to feeling keyed up alone by the thought of Quinn seeing her like this, radiating from months of sun and good food and decent sleep, her skin tanned, and the baby being a living proof of their love making.

She wondered if he'd still want her, like this, but she thought he would. Sometimes she even indulged in thinking it might turn him on, thinking that he did _that_ , creating a new life growing inside her. She wondered if he'd hold her in his lap then again, her belly between them, and guide her to sink down on his cock, down to the hilt, his good arm around her waist or on her hips, supporting her shimmying and canting her hips. How it would feel when he sucked her sensitive nipples, and how she would feel then, aroused, cherished and loved. Sometimes, very early in the morning, when the rest of the household was still deep asleep and just the chirping crickets announced a new day rising outside, she managed to stay just asleep and dreamy enough to indulge in that fantasy, Quinn coming home and making love to her in the sleepy twilight of her room. One hand between her legs, one hand kneading her now much heavier breast, she enjoyed those few moments of joy in that dreamy state between slumber and waking up, and usually these days she missed him the most.

Because she felt a longing for something they'd never been but _could_ have been. If only she had-

Carrie was lost in her thoughts, still standing in her room, in underwear, the light dress she was intending to wear still in her hand. She heard the steps, heard Maggie's voice calling her but was unable to react.

She knew it would happen now, she knew Maggie would enter the room in a second or two, wondering what took her so long, and she knew the outcome wouldn't be good, but suddenly she was too tired to try to prevent it.

So she raised her arms over her head, slipping into the linen dress just the moment Maggie opened the door after a short _knock_ , and then she heard Maggie's gasp, while she adjusted the dress over her exposed belly.

"Carrie-"

 

Carrie just stood and looked at her sister, trying to brace for what was to come.

 

“Carrie. Tell me this is not true. I- I just can't-”, Maggie’s voice was trembling but then gaining strength again,”you’re not going down that road again. You are not telling me that you got pregnant again, and will have that baby alone, with a father _somewhere_ and - who _is_ the father by the way? Do you even know?”

That hurt. And was done on purpose. Carrie knew her sister was angry. She knew that a lot of unspoken and pent up emotions from their four decades of relationship were in the mix now but still, it hurt.

“Quinn's the father.”

She knew she wouldn't be able to hold back the tears for too long now but her voice was steady when she said it.

_Quinn’s the father._

_It feels good to say it. Not for Maggie though._

__“Wonderful. So that's why you let him live with you and Franny so he could endanger Franny’s life, health and blind trust? That's why you were to blind to see that this was a hell of a bad idea to begin with?”_ _

__“It's not what you think Maggie. You weren't there.”_ _

__Carrie hadn't meant it as accusation, not at all, but of course Maggie took it that way._ _

“I wasn't there. No. Because after _years_ of doing what you and Dad needed me to do I put my family and _my_ needs first, _for once_. And believe me, had I known what you were about to get yourself and Franny into-” 

“Maggie, cut that crap. Just don't. You have no, really _no_ idea. Not about what Quinn’s been through, not about what I’ve been through and not about what happened that day. He was trying to _protect_ Franny. He was willing to _die_ for my daughter. He was willing to _die_ for me in Berlin. So say whatever you need to say, spit it out, but never, really _never_ dare to jump to a conclusion about Quinn. Because in your darkest dreams you’ll never be able to imagine what Quinn's been through.” 

“Carrie”, Carrie knew Maggie would change her tactics now, “Carrie, this isn't about Quinn's fate. It's about you. And Franny. And,” a nod towards Carrie’s midsection, “the choice you made. When did you notice?” 

It was subtle. Carrie had to give her that. Very subtle. 

“Early enough to consider abortion if that's what you want to know.  
But that was _never_ an option. I noticed on Christmas morning.” 

“And that's why you decided to keep it? You were indecisive for a long time with Franny.” 

“I _know_ that, Maggie. And _you_ and Dad helped me to decide to keep her. Don't you think I forgot that. But what's that what you're trying to tell me now? An abortion would have been better? Really?” 

“No. Carrie, God, no. I just can't understand, I mean, look at you, you're six months in, and nobody knows, and your life is, and has been all those years, very complicated. So I just don't get why you decided to go down that road again. Because this time, I won't be willing to take your baby in and raise her.” 

“Oh, of course. Once an unfit mother, always an unfit mother. Let me tell you this, maybe it's time: Franny's father died dangling from a crane in a middle-eastern city”, she saw Maggie’s eyes widening in shock but was beyond caring, “I was there, witnessing his last minutes, the convulsions, the cramps, the pain, unable to protect him. So, yes, I had difficulties to move on _without him_ , mothering a child who is his spitting image. It affected me in a way nothing in my life ever did before. And nobody cared. You and Dad helped with Franny. And I am grateful, I really am. But there was just one person in the world who was there to help me to get back from that place.” 

“Saul?” 

“Saul?”, Carrie asked with a bitter laugh, “Saul? No, not really. Quinn. That was Quinn.” 

" Doesn't mean you need to mother his child. There are other ways to show gratitude.” 

“Mommy, Mommy,” came Franny's voice from the staircase, “Aunt Maggie, where are you? We are waiting and it's hot in the car.” 

__

__“I guess we gotta go.”_ _

__“Yeah, sure. Great way to deal with a conflict Carrie. Shutting it down and pretending it didn't happen. Sure. Just this won't work with the baby you carry.”_ _

__Carrie turned, and she sweared to God, one of these days…_ _

__“Believe what you want Maggie but I am not having this conversation in the presence of my daughter.”_ _

__And with that, she left the room._ _

__The topic wasn't revisited until late that night, when the girls and Bill were in bed. It had been an awkward day, the atmosphere between the sisters icy and poisoned, but the girls had enjoyed the beach and the dinner in a local _osteria_._ _

__While Maggie was upstairs saying goodnight to her daughters Carrie went online and booked a flight back stateside. If nothing else, her conversation with Maggie had showed her that it was time._ _

__“Franny and I will leave Thursday”, she announced when Maggie came back outside._ _

__“So this is your way to acknowledge you fucked it up?”_ _

“This is my way to handle _my_ life.” 

__Maggie sighed and sat down._ _

__“How far along are you?”_ _

__“Six months. Mid August.”_ _

__“Are you taking your meds?”_ _

"Jesus, Maggie, I am here for how long now? Eight weeks? Or ten? You didn't even notice I am pregnant and not feeling well on some days. But you’d probably noticed if I got manic, right? So, yes, I am taking the _appropriate_ meds. Each and every day. I have an OB and a GP here, I go there every three weeks, I brought the right prescriptions, I am eating healthy food and-” 

“What made you think _he_ would be father material?” 

__“You don't know him.”_ _

__“But you do?”_ _

__“I do. Yes.”_ _

__“So after Dad’s funeral he’s gone, you are so wasted that you have to leave the country, live in Germany, find Jonas, then he comes back, gets tortured on screen, you leave Jonas and Germany, come back stateside with Quinn, never mention him again until he provokes a life threatening hostage situation at your house, and then there is _another_ conspiracy and somewhere in between you manage to sleep with him and get pregnant. Jesus, Carrie, there are-”_ _

__“Don't Maggie. Just don't.”_ _

__But Maggie was having none of it._ _

"So now you are going to avoid that discussion with me, fine, but at least you’ll need to answer those questions to yourself. What were you _thinking_ , Carrie?” 

"I got news for you: Try sex _without_ thinking, usually it's much better then.” 

__“Carrie.”_ _

__“No, really, Maggie. I didn't plan this. Neither did Quinn. But-”_ _

__“Where is he? Does he even know?”_ _

__“No. He doesn't.”_ _

__“Well, that's gonna be a hell of a surprise then. When are you going to tell him?”_ _

__“As soon as he is back.”_ _

__“Wait. You don't even know where he is? Same story, again? He just took off and-”_ _

__“No. He will come back. He needed time. To heal. But he will come back.”_ _

__And despite her anger and rage towards her sister, Carrie suddenly knew, with crystal clarity: He would come back. Sooner or later, but Quinn would come back. He would never abandon her. And suddenly she felt calm._ _

__“How long did that take last time? Two years? Three years?”_ _

“You know what Maggie? I never spoke a lot about my work. Maybe that was a mistake. There are many things I can't tell you, not even now. But if you really want to know why he was gone so long - google _Caesar report_ and _Syria_. And then read the first report, it's from Human Rights Watch. Written and heavily edited for a civilian readership. Caesar is the code name of a forensic photographer, a doctor like you, who documented the death of ten thousands of victims in the terror cellars of Assad’s regime in Syria. What do you think why someone like him defects and hands all the evidence to an oppositional force, and the United States? Because someone was there, all the way. Contacted him. Again and again. Lured him into cooperation. Protected him when things got difficult. Erased some obstacles. Managed to get him access to more _correctional facilities_. Took several identities and killed numerous times to protect that mission. Lied, manipulated, exploited assets - and finally not only made him cooperate but kept him alive for long enough to get the evidence out of country. And then even managed to get Caesar out of Syria. Caesar’s name is not Caesar and he lives a nice and quiet life now somewhere where nobody will ever know his real story. You think this is work that can be done in shifts? Or can be interrupted for a nice vacation or _sabbatical_? No, this is living and working undercover, forgetting who you are and what makes you human, just trying to get your asset out there alive and to make his sacrifice and the risks he takes heard and valued. Will that make a difference? Who knows? But in the long run - I am proud to know someone like Quinn. Because he did that. Two and half fucking years with some detours to ISIS operational zones. And if he needs time to recover from _that_ and Berlin - well, then I give him time. And don't google that report. You don't want to see it.” 

__Carrie was out of breath now after her long and agitated speech, her ankles hurt and all she wanted to do was to lie down in the calm serenity of her bedroom._ _

__“Carrie. I-,” Maggie reached over the table and touched her wrist, “I _know_.”_ _

__“You don't. Maggie, believe me, you don't.”_ _

__“Let's stop this. I’m sorry for saying things I shouldn't have said. It's a done deal anyway I guess”, her face showed a flicker of a smile when she gestured to Carrie’s midsection, “it's just - I was hoping, for you, and Franny, and all of us-”_ _

“I know, Maggie. Don't think I’m not-”, it was still hard to say it, “grateful. I _know_ what you did for Franny-”, she paused for a beat, “and me. But that doesn't give you any right to-” 

__Maggie raised her hands in a gesture of defeat, her eyes suddenly welling up with tears._ _

__“Carrie. Yes. It's just, sometimes - you make it really hard sometimes to-”_ _

“No. Maggie. You do that. Because you judge me by _your_ own standards and choices. And then I can only fail. But this is about me and my life. About my child- children and -” 

Saying it loud was what made Carrie finally fold. Acknowledging her _daughter’s_ presence to her sister, talking about her, while her hand subconsciously moved to her belly in a protective gesture. 

__She was too tired to fight the tears._ _

_I’m fucking pregnant. If anyone's allowed to be a sobbing mess here, it's me._

__That thought made her laugh, almost hysterically, but when Maggie got up and offered her a hug, she was back to crying, glad for Maggie’s stoic presence._ _

__“It's hard. I know. Don't make it harder, Carrie. There's not a single person in the world who can shoulder it all alone. Certainly not parenthood. Allow yourself to ask for help.”_ _

__“I - I just can't, Maggie. If I go there too often, miss him to much, then I don't know for how long I can keep it together.”_ _

__“Oh Carrie. C’mere.”_ _

__Carrie cried for almost an hour. Then Maggie got her a glass of iced tea, and cold towels for her swollen ankles and made her sit on the terrace._ _

__“You still can stay.”_ _

__“No. It's time. I know that now.”_ _

__“Make it Sunday then and not Thursday. So we can do one more beach weekend.”_ _

__Carrie sighed, but thought of Franny and the fun she’d had today._ _

__“Fine.”_ _

__“And then? Back stateside?”_ _

__“I won't go back to New York. I terminated the lease. I will look for something near Langley, take a desk job there when the baby’s a few months older. The December- let's say what happened then gives me some freedom now in my choices.”_ _

__“Live with us.”_ _

__“No Maggie. Remember an hour ago? Want that every night?”_ _

__Maggie reciprocated Carrie’s weak half smile._ _

__“Then at least take our house until you’ll find something. We won't be back before August anyway.”_ _

__“Thank you Maggie.”_ _

__Carrie felt very tired when she got up, all energy drawn from her._ _

__“And Maggie? Don't read that report.”_ _

__\-----------------------_ _

__It was summer now, and Quinn knew he was facing some decisions. There hadn't been one single moment of enlightenment. It had been a process. But now he knew. He had to get back to her, and try once more._ _

__He’d run away almost four years ago, not given Carrie a chance for her answer. This time he wanted her to phrase her answer in actual spoken words._ _

If it was a _no_ , he’d - well, he’d decide then what to do. 

__Arranging for his visa - Quinn Reece was South African - took a trip to London and required almost two weeks of waiting. He arranged his passport and visa to be delivered by Fedex to a hotel in Rosslare he’d found with a quick online search, and used the days to resume to his long hikes, west-bound this time, towards Fishguard harbour in Wales._ _

__It didn't matter if he was going to arrive in July or August. Her answer would either be a yes or a no. A week more or less didn't make a difference._ _

__Quinn didn't allow himself to develop any kind of expectations. No musings about what she might or might not say._ _

__Traveling with a cargo ship was the slowest mode of transportation he could find, and in a way that described Carrie’s and his state of affairs very accurately, he thought on a good day._ _

__And he was still damaged goods, so there was another nice parallel, so why not?_ _

When he left Scotland via England, Wales and then Ireland, and from there across the Atlantic, he realized that he'd been _away_ for almost eight months. 

__Had he changed? Some things got better, some didn't and probably never would. He’d never regain full control over his left hand. But he could move his left arm. He built up some stamina again, twenty miles a day were what he could do easily now. Still nowhere near the forty miles which had been his usual marching pace in the Syrian deserts, each and every night, sometimes fifty. There were more okay-ish nights now than really bad nights. Thinking of Carrie did still hurt. But that would probably never change._ _

__\------------------_ _

__Carrie decided not to go back to New York, there wasn't anything left to do. She moved into her sister’s house and called Max, kind and sweet Max who went to the storage facility and brought her the boxes with Franny’s clothes and toys._ _

__“Your clothes too?”_ _

__“Nah, I’m fine.”_ _

And when she opened the door for him two days later, he saw how _fine_ she was. 

__She wasn't hiding her belly anymore and it felt like since she’d told Maggie, and then Franny and Bill and the girls, it had grown by a few inches._ _

_Like she knows she's welcome now._

__Nevertheless Max’ eyes widening in disbelief, and then a huge smile spread across his face._ _

__“Uncle Max, Uncle Max, I’ll be a sister soon.”_ _

__“I see that, Franny. That’s”, his eyes went to Carrie, “a huge surprise, I guess.”_ _

__“Oh, I got used to it. I’ve known it for a week now, you know.”_ _

__“Ah, I see.”_ _

__Carrie smiled and shrugged but this was Max._ _

__“Well, little princess, how about we take these boxes to your room and you tell me everything.”_ _

__Max stayed all day, took Franny to the park and playground, and didn't mention the topic again until after dinner, when Franny was in bed._ _

__“Does he know?”_ _

__“No. I don't know where he is.”_ _

__“But you’re sure about this?”_ _

__“It's a little late for doubts, don't you think? But yes, I am sure.”_ _

__“You okay?”_ _

__“My ankles hurt and I get heartburn and my skin itches, but yes, I am okay.”_ _

__

__\--------------------_ _

__Maggie, Bill and the girls came back early August. Carrie had found a small townhouse near their suburb, close to Franny’s new school, but wouldn't move there before another week when her future from New York would be delivered and set up._ _

__Her legs often were heavy and swollen now, she was edematous, and the heat of that endless August often made her dizzy. Her blood pressure was high and she was out of breath when just moving down the stairs but it was just a few more weeks._ _

__\-----------------------_ _

__Quinn arrived in New York very early on a Friday morning, it would be a scorching hot day, but the early hours of the morning were still relatively cool._ _

__A man in a suit, together with two boys with short dark hair, went down the stairs of the brownstone when Quinn walked casually down the street._ _

_So she left._

__Max was his next stop. Max who nearly spit his coffee when he opened the door and saw Quinn standing outside._ _

__“You took your sweet time, buddy.”_ _

__“I did.”_ _

__“Coffee?”_ _

__“Yes. Thanks.”_ _

__They sat at the kitchen counter in Max’ small studio. Max sipped his coffee and eyeballed him over the rim of his cup, and Quinn knew he wouldn't tell him anything as long as he himself wouldn't ask._ _

__“Do you know where Carrie is?”_ _

__“Yes.”_ _

__“C-care to share?”_ _

__“Sure.”_ _

__“And?”_ _

__“You’re not just here to check in and leave again?”_ _

__“I don't know. Depends on Carrie, I guess.”_ _

__“She's with her sister. Left New York. A while ago. March, I think.”_ _

__“Did you see her? How is she?”_ _

__“Question 1, yes. Question 2, go and talk to her yourself.”_ _

__So it was a taxi, a three and half hour train ride and another taxi and then he was back to the small residential street in Bethesda, under the trees where he’d kissed Carrie all those years ago._ _

__\----------------_ _

__Maggie Mathison stood by the kitchen window and sipped her coffee, lost in thoughts._ _

__It had been a long night and a long morning. Carrie had given birth to a healthy baby girl late last night, an emergency C-section after her blood pressure had skyrocketed earlier during the day and she had developed blurred vision and felt nauseated._ _

__A quick urine test had confirmed Maggie’s initial suspect: preeclampsia._ _

__It was a quick decision, Carrie was thirty seven weeks in, the baby had a good weight, and waiting would have put both mother and child at risk, so they decided to get the baby out right away._ _

__She herself had been with Carrie in the operating room. Carrie had had an epidural so she’d been able to welcome her daughter and to kiss her hello, and then Maggie had taken her to the adjacent room for a thorough examination. And then she had sat with the tiny human under a heat lamp and had watched her niece’s arrival in the real world._ _

__It was a miracle, each and every time._ _

__She'd stayed with Carrie until morning, when she was needed home to get the girls ready for school._ _

__And now, at noon, a sleepless night was taking its toll._ _

__Maggie sipped her tea and let her mind wander while watching the street. She noticed a taxi, a rare sight here._ _

__When the door opened and a tall, dark haired man got out of that car, her heart skipped a few beats. That wasn’t possible._ _

_Today. Out of all days._

__She had a few seconds before he rang the doorbell, and then she opened with one swift movement._ _

__“Hello.”_ _

__“Hello”, Quinn answered carefully, “I am looking for Carrie. Is she here?”_ _

__“No. She’s not.”_ _

__“B-but-”, the doctor in her couldn't help but notice the minor problems with his speech, probably when he was getting nervous._ _

__Boy, was he in for a surprise. In a way, it was a typical Carrie-thing that she now had to break the news to that man whom she'd seen just once, more than four years ago._ _

__“She does live here though.”_ _

__“Okay. So - can I see her? Will she be b-back?”_ _

__“Listen, Quinn, this is hard now, but-”_ _

__“W-what happened? Is she okay?”_ _

__There was no way to break the news without shocking him. A cup of coffee or tea wouldn't soften the news. So Maggie decided to get him inside, on a chair, and then say it straight out._ _

__“Come in. Let's sit.”_ _

__She saw he was worried but at least a chair was needed , she thought._ _

__“Quinn. Can I call you Quinn? That's what Carrie uses. Carrie's in hospital”, she saw him pursing his lips but holding her gaze and hurried to go on, “she's fine now. They had to be quick, but she's fine. And the baby is fine too. A c-section. I was with them until an hour ago.”_ _

__She didn't comment on the fact that he didn't know about the pregnancy, neither that _he_ fathered the little bundle with her sweet tuft of dark hair, neither did she tell him about Carrie's whispered “I wished he could see her”, that was between the two of them._ _

__She saw him swallowing. Once, and then a second time. He looked out of the window for long seconds._ _

__“Can you tell me where I can find her?”, he finally asked with a hoarse voice._ _

__\---------------------_ _

__Maggie drove him to the hospital, even walked him to the ward, afraid the nurses wouldn't let him in otherwise._ _

__And Carrie would never forgive her if he turned up on her doorstep and she made him disappear again._ _

__So she introduced him to the nurse and then watched him walking down the hallway, towering over everyone else on that floor, his limp barely visible._ _

__All Maggie could do now was driving home and waiting for the girls, and then later bringing Franny here to meet her baby sister._ _

__\-----------------_ _

__He softly knocked the door but didn't get an answer._ _

__When he opened it and entered the room he saw Carrie was asleep._ _

__For a moment he just stood and watched her. She lay in a large height adjustable bed, wearing a soft dark blue shirt, a matching shawl around her shoulders._ _

_She's been cold._

__Her hair was in a ponytail and he could see dark rings under her eyes. But her skin had a nice tan, a warm tone he’d never seen on her before._ _

__Her left arm was stretched out and had an IV cannula hold in place with some hypoallergenic tape._ _

_Why do I know it's hypoallergenic?_

__He stepped closer to read the label._ _

_There was an empty bottle saying _Toradol_ \- _Good so she has not too much pain now_ \- and she was still getting Ibuprofen. _

__

__She looked peaceful. Exhausted but peaceful._ _

__And then there was the small cot next to her bed. A rosé metal frame. A white fluffy blanket. A card attached to the frame._ _

___Baby Mathison._ _ _

__No name yet._ _

__The baby was sleeping._ _

__She was tiny. A small, perfectly round head, dark strands of hair. A tiny nose. A mouth like a little rosebud. Small fists. She was breathing fast, reminding him of a butterfly moving his wings. There was a heat lamp over her bed._ _

__She had a little bracelet around her fragile wrist._ _

__Her fingernails were translucent and long._ _

__She wrinkled her nose and turned her head, her eyelids fluttering, the small mouth opening for a yawn as she stretched her small arms over her head now and opened her eyes._ _

__Suddenly Quinn felt like an intruder. Carrie was asleep, after a surgery, had no idea that he was here, staring at her and the baby, she hadn't asked for his visit and should at least have a say in this -_ _

The baby made a sound. She wasn't crying she just made a _sound_. Again. 

"Shhshh. Quiet, _a leanbh_. Shhshh. Your mommy’s sleeping.” 

__The little one listened to his voice and was quiet for a moment but then she started moving and making those tiny whining sounds again._ _

__Quinn paused, looking at Carrie. She was still deep asleep._ _

__Certainly he could, if he was careful-_ _

__It took him a moment to find the right angle but then he was able to move his weaker forearm next to the little munchkin._ _

__Placing his good hand with an open palm on her other side, he carefully rolled her into his palm with a few gentle movements of his left arm. That way he could carefully lift her out of her cot, her whole torso resting in his open hand and her head supported by his index and middle finger. She was surprisingly warm._ _

__It was just a few steps to the arm chair between the window and Carrie’s bed and this was where he sat down with the little girl in her white soft onesie._ _

__Once he sat he gently rolled her against his chest, so that she lay snug in the crook of his left elbow now, his arm supported by the armrest, and he could use his right index finger to caress her tiny head._ _

__She wiggled and opened her eyes once more, he wondered what made her so calm now. He looked down on her perfect baby face, soft skin, round eyes looking at him, and wondered what she saw._ _

_She can't think, right? It's not that you think, a leanbh, right? You just stare at that strange man in your mom’s room. Wondering what he's doing here, uhm?_

And then she closed her dark blue eyes. She sighed _as if she has the weight of the world on her tiny shoulders_ , and then the tension left her body and she was asleep again, in his arm, snuggled against his chest, probably hearing his heartbeat. 

__He placed his hand softly around her head, feeling her soft hair tickling his palm._ _

__Thinking that this baby felt safe with him, that Carrie had decided to keep her, that he was here now, holding her, thinking what Carrie went through over the last months and still she had decided to have the baby - suddenly he couldn't contain all these emotions anymore and felt tears welling up in his eyes and there wasn't a single thing he could to hold them back._ _

_Carrie. My God, Carrie._

__Carrie woke up with a start, immediately feeling the presence of another person in the room. But when she opened her eyes, she realized where she was._ _

_Hospital, c-section, emergency, the baby’s fine, I am fine now, the other person is her, she’s here now._

__She felt her heartbeat calming down again and then she opened her eyes._ _

Next to her bed, Quinn sat in the stuffed armchair, the baby in his arm, his hand cupping her small head with delicate tenderness, and Carrie could see he was silently crying, his cheeks wet from tears, silently moving his lips as if he was talking to _his daughter_. 

_Quinn. Oh my God. Quinn._

__He sensed that something in the room had changed and raised his head, meeting her eyes._ _

__“You came. You're here”, Carrie whispered._ _

__“Carrie-”, but he had no words to measure all what he felt that moment._ _

__He paused and tried again._ _

__“Carrie. You- you kept her.”_ _

__Now Carrie’s eyes filled with tears._ _

__“Quinn. I did. And that doesn't mean you have to-”_ _

__“God. Carrie. No. That's not what I meant. I’m just- stunned, and overwhelmed”, he swallowed, “that you kept her and that she is _here_.”_ _

"Quinn, how could I not? I mean, apart from that I _want_ her, how could I ever tell you there was a baby and I decided _not_ to have her?” 

__“You did that because of me?”_ _

__“Of course, you idiot,” Carrie ran a hand through her hair, exasperated, “And because of myself. And her. And Franny.”_ _

__“You kept her because you thought I’d be b-back?”_ _

__Suddenly this was really important to him - to know she had faith in him._ _

__“Yes”, Carrie whispered, her voice not stable, “that too.”_ _

__The small bundle in Quinn’s arm was awake now again, opening and closing her mouth and turning her head into the warmth of his chest, her voice now surprisingly strong as she started crying._ _

__Quinn got up and slowly rocked her in his arm twice before he moved to Carrie's bedside. He had to sit down and focus on his left arm, to move it with some support of his right close enough to Carrie’s arm, so that she could gently pick her daughter from his arm._ _

__The baby stopped crying when she was with Carrie, again turning her head towards Carrie’s body now._ _

__“Hey, little miss, you’re a clever girl”, Carrie cooed, “you’re hungry, right?”_ _

__She tried to sit up but her face contorted in pain when she tried to move._ _

__“Fucking hell.”_ _

__“Wait. Slowly. I- Let me help you.”_ _

__Quinn sat on the edge of her bed, hesitated a brief moment before he carefully wound his right arm around her back, just below her shoulder blades._ _

__“Lean in. No muscle tension, try to fully relax. Let me do the work. Don't hold your breath, breathe in now and then out when I move you. So, breathe in now- and there.”_ _

__It still hurt like hell but he settled her in her new position quickly and efficiently._ _

__Carrie leant her head back against her pillow, his arm still supporting her back._ _

__Then her gaze went down again as she slowly moved her shawl away and pushed her shirt upwards. Quinn couldn't move away but looked out of the window, feeling awkward and nervous now._ _

__He heard Carrie gasping, a painful sigh, and then she cursed under her breath._ _

__“Gentle, little button. More gentle please.”_ _

__When he turned his head again, the baby was half covered by the shawl but it was obvious that Carrie was breastfeeding and the intimacy of this moment made him swallow again._ _

__“Hey”, Carrie said with a soft voice._ _

__“Hey.”_ _

__He carefully closed his arm around her shoulder, and looked down on her._ _

__“I didn't ask how you are feeling.”_ _

__“Neither did I.”_ _

__“How about we start over again?”_ _

__“Want me to come in again?”_ _

__“No. Please don't move that arm cause moving feels like a chainsaw cutting me in two halfs.”_ _

__“Carrie, I- I am so sorry I wasn't here.”_ _

"Quinn, here's the thing: I had a lot of time to think. We need to stop these guilt tripping apologies. We only can do _this_ if we leave the past behind us and try to make it better. Not by feeling guilty all the time.” 

__But then her eyes filled with tears again._ _

__“Fuck, I am a hormonal nightmare,  
it's supposed to get better soon.”_ _

__But despite her attempt to shake it off she couldn't swallow her tears._ _

"Hey. Hey. You're right. It's not about _guilt_. But I’m sorry you were alone in this.” 

__“Are you here now?”_ _

__She looked up to him, her chin quivering, their daughter in her arm, tears rolling down her cheeks._ _

__“I’m here now. Yes.”_ _

__And with that, she finally leant in, rested her head against his shoulder, he kissed the top of her head, and she silently cried from exhaustion, pain, the fear she’d had the night before, the overflow of hormones, and for him finally coming back to her, and from joy and happiness because she’d given birth to a healthy baby and because it was just all too much._ _

__Quinn didn't know how long it took. He just knew that he was where he needed to be, this very moment. And that was a feeling he hadn't had in a very long time._ _

__After a while Carrie let the baby burp and then she curled up in Carrie’s arm again and fell asleep a few seconds later._ _

__“She and I, we need some more sleep.”_ _

__“Sure, yes. I- I can be back later and-”_ _

__“Quinn.”_ _

__“Yeah?”_ _

__“I didn't say that to make you leave. I’d like you to-,” her gaze went down to her hands, “I mean you could stay. If you want that.”_ _

__She raised her head again and looked at him now. A vulnerability he’d never seen before._ _

__“I’d like that.”_ _

__“You want to hold her again?”_ _

__His throat closed up without warning so all he could do was nod._ _

__“Here. Wait. On your left arm? Or is the right better?”_ _

__Quinn adjusted his position, sitting on the large bed now, leant against the headrest, right next to Carrie._ _

__Carrie carefully positioned the baby against his chest, his left arm around her, and then she leant her head against his shoulder and exhaled slowly._ _

__Quinn reached for her hand to give her a gentle squeeze._ _

__“Can I ask you one question before you sleep?”_ _

__“Uhm.”_ _

__“The postcard. Did you get it?”_ _

__“Which postcard?”_ _

__“Ah, never mind. I have one more question and then I let you sleep: what's her name?”_ _

__“She doesn't have one yet. It's silly. I know. But I was hoping… I thought if I wait a day or two, you might-”_ _

__Quinn smiled to himself and caressed her hand, encouraging her to go on._ _

_Carrie and her hunches._

__“Is there a name which is important to you? What did you call her earlier?”_ _

" _A leanbh_? It’s just something you say to a little one. It means _a child_.” 

__She looked up to him and studied his profile._ _

__“Any other name?”_ _

__“Caitlin.”_ _

__“That's beautiful. Caitlin. Hey baby girl. That's your name. Caitlin.”_ _

__She didn't ask why he’d chosen that name. He’d tell her when he was ready._ _

__So she just leant into his side again, inhaling his scent, overwhelmed by the events of the last day, and gave in to the exhaustion, knowing he was here now._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Zeffy and to SNQA. 
> 
>  
> 
> Anyone wants to read another ending? Or a sequel to either of the endings? Writing is my way to not let him go.


	7. Chapter 7 - Sequel for Ending II: Caitlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first three months with baby Caitlin - struggles, reunion, sleepless nights, baby blues, the first gummy grin and lots of happiness. Lots and lots of happiness - especially when Caitlin starts to sleep through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the lovely encouragement after chapter 6. 
> 
> This fandom and those two deserve some happiness.

Quinn spent most of the next days in that hospital room with Carrie and Caitlin, except when Carrie had her post op care and examinations. He took Caitlin then for a daily bath and baby check up in the baby ward. Many babies spent some hours there every night but their little girl spent her night snuggled up against his chest or in her little bassinet next to Carrie's bed.

When Franny came with Maggie, Quinn made himself unseen and went for a walk alone or to get some coffee and snacks for Carrie which he smuggled past the nurses' desk when he came back.

It was difficult for him to see Carrie having pain. 

Once she lay in her bed and was crying when he came back, three days after giving birth, holding Caitlin against her breast.

"Hey", he moved to her bed and sat down, "what's wrong?"

"I don't know. I should be happy. I know. I guess I _am_. But I can't stop crying. I just can't."

"Is she asleep?"

Quinn moved his good arm forward to scoop the little bundle - just a little below seven pounds - from Carrie's arm, slowly raised and carefully placed her in her cot, turning back to Carrie then.

"Can you sit up?"

"Everything is hurting. My boobs, my sutures, my back. I thought it would have stopped by now."

"C'mere." 

Carrie slowly moved forward, he saw she was trying to breathe through the pain, and he offered her his right forearm to pull herself into a standing position.

He'd spent some hours every day and night lying next to her, the bed was wide enough for the three of them, dozing into a light slumber himself for a few hours. Usually Carrie's head rested against his shoulder then. 

It was the best feeling he'd had in a very long time, feeling Carrie's warmth seeping into his side, their baby daughter resting on his chest, sometimes holding Carrie's hand then. 

He knew this wasn't real life. But it was good and about the rest - later.

When she stood, he moved behind her and placed his right hand on her nape, slowly moving up and down, feeling hard knots beneath his fingertips.

"Want me to take care of these?", he asked with a low voice, they both were getting used to speak so quietly whenever Caitlin was asleep. 

When Carrie didn't answer, he moved back on the bed, carefully stabilizing Carrie's back as she sat down too.

She sighed when he slowly began to move his fingers, massaging her neck and shoulders.

He didn't apply much pressure, just a gentle touch, hoping he could help Carrie to relax and to withdraw some of the tension out of her body.

_We are having a baby together but I have no idea if she likes massages._

The thought crossed his mind, bringing the absurdity of their situation back to his mind. But _fuck that_ it was what it was.

_Each time requires its own answers._

Slowly he increased the pressure, wishing he could use both of his hands simultaneously for her shoulders, carefully adding circular movements of his index finger around a particular firm lump.

Carrie noticed she was holding her breath and slowly exhaled when Quinn started kneading her hurting nape, his hand wandering over to her right shoulder now and then she felt the warm weight of his left on her other shoulder.

"I can't m-move my fin- fingers.”

His speech difficulties only came back when he was nervous, she'd noticed that and despite her earlier general sadness and exhaustion it made her feel a short butterfly tingle that he was _nervous_ now. And yet it helped - this was new to her to. The last three days were in a way the most intimate they'd ever been - and yet they hadn't talked about what they _were_. 

Somehow it was implied. At least she thought so.

And despite sharing a bed at night and holding hands every now and then, this was the first time they were _acting_ like - _what are we? Lovers? Partners? A couple?_

Carrie raised her left hand and gently placed it on Quinn's left hand.

"It still feels good. Very good."

"Want me to keep going?"

"Yes."

It _was_ good. He kneaded her nape and shoulders, long strong fingers working their way into painful lumps, releasing tension and pain, and when he moved his fingers into her hair to massage her scalp, Carrie sighed because it felt so good.

Quinn sat on the middle of the bed by then, she was placed between his legs, her back supported against his chest, his left arm lay next to their legs, her left hand covering his.

"That's good too?"

"Yeah."

"Want to lean back?"

"I'd like that."

Carrie hesitated only for a brief moment when he leaned back against the height adjustable headrest, clamped into a half upright position, and gently pulled her with him, to rest against his chest.

Again she had to breathe shallow and slowly to deal with the stab of pain in her abdomen but once she was settled, Quinn's hand went back into her hair.

She felt snug. And suddenly it felt even safe to cry, it had been an emotional week and all those months before had been difficult too.

"It's okay Carrie", Quinn spoke quietly, just above her ear, "let it all out if that helps. It's okay. You're doing so great and you were so brave, it's okay to be weak and sad and emotional now."

And he was right. With him, it was okay. And it helped. It wasn't that she was sad. It was just that she needed to cry.

Quinn almost felt bad for enjoying this moment so much, but then again, if they both wanted to try to make this work, _this_ needed to be part of the package too, right?

But feeling Carrie leaning into his embrace, slowly relaxing because she felt good with him, feeling that his touch helped her to feel better - this was fucking good.

They sat like this for almost two hours, and Quinn kept caressing her all the time, and after a while Carrie stopped crying but didn't move, just sat there, feeling cherished and - _loved_. She closed her eyes a while ago but was awake, feeling Quinn's proximity and relishing the moment.

A nurse had opened the door to check in on them and then she'd closed it again when she'd seen the sleeping baby and Carrie getting her massage, Carrie hadn't even noticed her as her eyes had been closed.

It was early evening now, shift change according to the sound pattern seeping through the thick door.

Caitlin would wake up soon for her next feed, she already started stirring every now and then in her cot.

"Nap time's over I guess," Quinn whispered above Carrie's ear.

"Mmmh, five more minutes."

"It's not me who decides that. Our little boss is about to wake up. But-," his hand went down from her head to her nape one last time, "you can have more of this later if you like."

And then it happened, they didn't know who leant in first, whether Carrie turned her head or he turned her towards him, but she shifted slightly and when his lips brushed over the corner of her mouth she reached for him and circled her arm around his nape and kissed him, just a soft but lingering kiss. 

"I want _this_ established, Quinn," she whispered when they parted, "even if I'm just in an oversized nursing shirt and can't move, I want you to know _this_."

And then she kissed him once more, equally soft, letting a soft sigh when he kissed her back. 

\-----------------

It was in the middle of the night, Caitlin had one of her nightly feeds a while ago and Quinn carried her for over an hour to help her dealing with what they thought might be tummy pain. 

She finally calmed down and eventually fell asleep.

With a sigh Quinn sat on the edge of the mattress.

"She has stamina."

"Does that surprise you?"

That made him huff a laugh and he slowly leant back, moving his legs on the mattress and leaning into the pillows, Caitlin snuggling on his chest, her legs curled up under her tiny body.

This was how she slept best and as far as he was concerned he wouldn't risk to wake her up by putting her in her cot now.

He felt Carrie moving and turned his head, seeing that she tried to turn on her side.

"Part of my back pain is that I always lie flat, fuck", she cursed under her breath but relaxed once she was settled.

"That's better?", Quinn asked, remembering the abdominal pain after his gunshot wound vividly.

"For the next five minutes", Carrie deadpanned, "but I'm better than this afternoon."

"You'll get better. Day by day."

"Quinn?"

"Uhm?"

"Where were you?"

_Where did you get better?_

"Germany. And then Scotland."

"All those months?"

"Yes. And then England and Ireland. On my way back. But mostly Scotland."

_Caitlin. Gaelic._

But Carrie decided not to push him. He'd talk when he was ready.

"Carrie?", his voice was low and Carrie placed her hand on his shoulder, still feeling warm when she thought about their earlier kiss, "what's gonna happen n-next?"

"Discharge will be in two days. Maybe three, depending on my suture."

"I know."

"And then - I guess that depends on you, Quinn."

"What do you want, Carrie?"

"I told you Quinn. That hasn't changed."

Quinn felt the warm bundle on his chest, grounding him and tethering him _here_ in a way he hadn't known before. 

"Where will you live?"

"I found a house. The furniture was supposed to be delivered this week. And I was meant to shop some new things. A crib. Changing table. A new bed for Franny. Stuff like that. But now- I can't even lift her out of her cot so-"

"I could do that," Quinn said, hesitantly, suddenly feeling sick from exhaustion and nervousness, "if you want that... me there... that is... after Franny is okay with it... God, Carrie, I just-"

"Hey. Look at me."

He didn't. He couldn't. Carrie saw his hand caressing Caity's hair in a protective gesture and her heart swelled with love for the complicated man next to her, his need to make it right for her, and for Franny, his fears and inhibitions, and the thought that he probably had pondered about their future all these days now made her eyes well up with tears once more.

"Look at me Quinn. Please." 

She cupped his cheek with her right hand when he turned his head towards her, unable to see the expressions in his eyes in the nightly dim light in their room.

"I _want_ you to be there. But I want this to be what _you_ want too. And we need to find a way to make this work for Franny. And I can't do it on my own. If you need more time, I'll go back to Maggie's for a week or two, until I can move around the house more independently."

His face was close to hers now, close enough to bend her head the slightest bit and place a soft kiss on his mouth.

"This is real Quinn, right?", she whispered against his lips.

"Yeah", his voice was hoarse and barely audible but he kissed her back, and she felt his tears on her face.

 

\-----------

Quinn spent most of the next day in Carrie's new house, finding handymen to set up the furniture, unpacking some boxes and trying to get Franny's room ready.

Then he took a taxi to a place called _Baby Blossom_ , Siri had provided him with the recommendation, and bought a moses basket, a crib and a changing table and then a bed with a slide for Franny.

Later that night Carrie sat leaning against him on her hospital bed again while he massaged her scalp and neck.

 

“It's all set for you and the girls. Franny's bed will delivered tomorrow. It has a slide.”

“She’ll like that. I told her we’ll be home in two days.”

“Carrie, I’ve been th- thinking. About F-Franny and what happened in N-New York-”

Carrie knew his stutter was worse now because this was a challenging topic, for her too.

“Quinn.”

“N-no. Let m-me finish. I t-took a room. Close to your house. I c-can be with y-you whenever you want that. B-but if you need space- and in the beginning with F-Franny-”

“Franny will need some time, I think.”

“I know. I w-want her to be okay. N-no rush.”

“This is not about backing out Quinn, right?”

“Would I be here then?”

“No. I don't think so. It's just - I wish it were different.”

“M-me too. But I’ll be there. Whenever you want that.”

_Me_.

Carrie buried her face in his shoulder, allowing herself a moment of rest, overwhelmed by the reality suddenly taking its toll again. Quinn caressed her shoulders and held her close.

“CPS still on your heels?”

“No. That stopped.”

“Good.”

“Quinn? You’ll need some help I guess. Therapy.”

“I know. I won't harm her again.”

“I know you didn't _want_ that to happen. But you, we need help.”

“I know.”

\----------------

Quinn wasn't there when Carrie and Caitlin were discharged as Maggie picked them up with Franny in tow. 

Seeing her daughter’s excitement about her new baby sister and their new home, all complete with a new bed, a swing in the yard, all her toys from New York and some new things she’d never seen before, made Carrie’s heart jump with joy.

Helena, their new nanny, had prepared a light lunch and even Caitlin was in a good mood today, awake for about an hour without being hungry or having tummy cramps.

After lunch, Helena took Franny to the small garden, exploring the new playhouse they found around the corner of their house.

“He did all of this?”, Maggie asked when Franny couldn't hear them anymore, making a hand gesture towards the living room and garden.

Carrie shrugged.

“I think so. He just mentioned that he went to get a few things.”

“When will you tell Franny that he's back?”

“Geez Maggie, we just came through the door. Give us an hour or two.”

“She should have a say in this.”

“No, Maggie. Parents make decisions. Not children. And parents, so me in this case, have to make sure children feel safe and good with the choices they’ve made.”

“You can't bring him in here without-”

“Maggie. I won't. Do you see him here? No. He rented a room nearby, he’ll be here as a visitor once I spoke to Franny and then we’ll take it from there. Step by step.”

“Is he better.”

“He is.”

“Mentally?”

“God Maggie, I didn't run a full psych interview on him. He’s back. He’s been with me - us - for days now. He did all this here. He’ll be here when I need him. Give us a few days to figure things out, will you?”

\----------------

It took Carrie until bedtime to find some time and a quiet moment to talk with Franny.

Helena left at 7 after preparing dinner for Franny and talking through her schedule for the rest of the week. Maggie would drive Franny to school for the next two weeks so Helena would pick her up and spend the afternoons with them.

Caitlin was asleep after Maggie had given her niece a bath and so it was finally just Carrie and Franny, Franny lying next to her on the couch.

“Hey baby girl, wasn't that a good day?”

“I’m no baby. We have a new baby.”

“I still remember when you were a baby.”

“I don't.”

“Well of course you don't. That's what Aunt Maggie and Ruby and Josie and I do for you.”

“I can tell Caity about the day she came home later.”

“I bet she’ll like that. Franny,” Carrie placed a kiss on her daughter’s forehead, and then took a deep breath, “Quinn came home too.”

“Where is he? Will we see him?”

“He visited me and Caitlin in hospital. He’d like to visit us again, here, soon.”

“Is he better now?”

“Much better. He even cut his hair.”

That made Franny chuckle.

“That's good. He didn't want my hairclips.”

“Franny, Quinn is very sorry about what happened in New York. He knows now you were scared. He’d like to come and visit us and apologize to you.”

“He was scared too, I think.”

“I think so too.”

“He could bounce Caitlin on his knees like he did with me.”

“I think he'd like to do that when she's a little bigger.”

“Are you happy that Quinn is back?”

Carrie had to fight back tears, her throat closing up, when she kissed her daughter once more.

“I’m happy that I have you. And Caitlin. And that we are here together. And yes, I am happy that Quinn is back too.”

“Maybe he’d like to come for snack time tomorrow? Not for too long because then Caitlin will need to sleep again.”

“I’ll ask him honey. And now it's bedtime for you too.”

Getting up was difficult and Carrie suddenly felt a grave exhaustion, hoping for an hour or two of sleep before Caitlin was hungry again.

Thank God Franny went to bed easily, even brushed her teeth without complaining, and it was just after eight when Carrie slowly walked over to her room, supporting herself with one hand against the wall.

“Carrie, God, c’mere, lie down.”

Quinn sat in the rocking chair in her room, Caitlin cradled in his arm but got up when he saw Carrie and wrapped his arm around her shoulder to walk her to her bed.

“Jesus Quinn, you scared the crap out of me. How come you're here? Dammit, God, that fucking hurts like hell.”

Carrie slowly sank back on her bed, feeling a throbbing pain in her lower abdomen.

“Since when are you here?”

“When your nanny left.”

“Quinn, really.”

“You shouldn't be alone. Not five days post op.”

“Hey. Quinn. I’m not mad. Just overwhelmed”, Carrie reached out for his elbow and gently touched him.

Suddenly it was all too much and she felt tears welling up in her eyes again, too exhausted to fight them back.

“Hey. Carrie.”

When Carrie didn't respond, Quinn slid next to her on the mattress, carefully keeping Caitlin close to his chest before he placed the sleeping bundle next to him, a cushion blocking her from rolling over.

“She can't turn yet,” Carrie sobbed.

“We don't know when she’ll start that. Operation security. And now you. C’mere.”

“I can't move. Everything hurts.”

But when he turned to his side she buried her face in his shirt, wetting it with her tears.

Quinn’s hand entangled with her hair, gentle caressing her, and then he just let her cry, unsure what would be the right thing to do.

“Anything I can get for you?”, he asked a little helpless when she finally calmed down.

“Non hurting boobs.”

“Out of stock. Sorry.”

“Then tea and a blanket.”

“That I can do.”

A while later Carrie lay snug in her bed, wrapped into a blanket, her sleeping baby next to her.

She noticed she was falling asleep while Quinn was still around, and then woke up again when Caitlin made her _I am hungry_ -sounds, and again Quinn was still there, helping her to sit up and handing her Caitlin.

“You’re still here. What time is it?”

“Nearly midnight.”

Quinn took Caitlin again when she was done, and when she started crying because of her after feeding tummy discomfort he placed her over his shoulder and walked out of the room with her.

“Try to sleep. I’ll take care of her.”

Carrie woke up at 2 am again, finding Quinn dozing next to her, Caitlin on his chest. She dozed off again before she was able to ponder about their new sleeping arrangements.

The little munchkin was hungry at 4 am and afterwards Quinn took her again.

He woke her up at 5.30, after sitting on the corner of her mattress for a few minutes, just watching her in her sleep.

“Hey. I’ll leave now. She's sleeping in the downstairs bassinet.”

Carrie was still sleepy, feeling better after the few hours of calm sleep she'd gotten that night.

“Come back later?”, she asked when Quinn rose to leave.

A nod was the only answer he had, his throat closing up from all the emotions he was containing.

\------------------------

Quinn came back at 9, and then left again at noon when Maggie came to see her sister and niece, after an awkward moment with just Maggie and him in the hallway.

Afterwards he needed a few hours alone, carefully trying not to explore all his conflicting thoughts too thoroughly.

_This is the one chance life threw at you. Don't fuck it up. Whatever it takes, don't fuck it up._

But sleeping for two hours without trying to be half awake to not to miss any sound from the baby was good.

And now - meeting Franny.

Maggie's car was gone when he came back, now there was a car he hadn't seen before in the driveway. The nanny probably.

He heard Franny’s voice from the garden,  
then Carrie laughing and a woman’s voice and then Franny again.

“We always had chocolate cookies in New York.”

“They’ll melt Franny”, a voice he didn't know, so the nanny.

“They are his favorite. We’ll eat them quickly.”

“Helena, this is a long story, let's just say, the cookies _are_ important”, Carrie slightly exasperated.

“When will he be here?”, Franny again.

_Well, he’s here now._

Quinn pressed the doorbell, thinking that just using his keys and making an appearance out of nowhere wouldn't make things easier.

The woman opened and introduced herself as Helena, Franny's red curls peaking around the door frame.

“Hi Quinn.”

“Hi Franny.”

“Where were you?”

“Franny, let Mister-, let your visitor come in.”

“He’s not _Mister_ Quinn, he is just Quinn, right?”

“Uhm, yes. Sorry. I’m-”

“He’s mom’s friend from work.  
He knew me when I was a baby. He lived with us in New York. Where were you Quinn?”

“At a beach. With a lighthouse.”

“Can I go there too? Can you take me?”

“One day. Maybe.”

He still stood in the hallway, looking down on Franny, thinking back to when he'd seen her last, the guilt crushing him.

But Franny offered him a shy smile.

“We have our favorite cookies. And apple juice. And herbal tea. But that doesn't taste good. My baby is sleepy, she cried a long time before she fell asleep, but you can see her later.”

So it was cookies and apple juice, and Carrie who looked at him and Franny, sitting next to each other.

Quinn hadn't known how to greet Carrie, probably they needed to work on that anyway, but after the first few days in the cocoon of the hospital room, the last 24 hours had been exhausting and overwhelming.

“Quinn. Quinn?”, Franny was pulling on his shirt sleeve, “would you like to see our new house?”

“Uhm? Oh yes. Sure.”

Franny started her tour and they made their way through the house, finishing in her room.

“And this is my room. Caitlin will get the smaller room next to Mom’s room once she is older. Right now she sleeps in Mom’s room.”

“Sounds good.”

“Where do you live now?”

“Not far away from here. In a motel.”

“That's not where people _live_. That is for vacation.”

“Right now, I live there.”

“You were gone for a long time.”

“Yes. I- “, Quinn wasn't sure if this was the right moment but ventured on, “when we saw each other in New York, that day, I made a mistake. A hu- a big mistake. And I am very s-sorry. This was my f-fault.”

“I was scared.”

“I know.” _Me too._ “I am sorry.”

“Are you feeling better now? Did you see a doctor? Mommy said you couldn't come to see us because of _that_ day.”

“She is right. I saw a doctor. Yes.”

“I had to see a doctor too. But I wasn't sick.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“She asked questions. A lot of questions. And that it wasn't my fault.”

“No it wasn't. Franny-”, he took a deep breath, “I - I got a present for you. It's downstairs.”

“For me? Did you bring something for Caitlin as well?”

“No. Not yet.”

It was a book. _The complete tales of Peter Rabbit._

“Is that Peter the rabbit?”

“Yes. He got himself into all kinds of mischief. But he had friends and family who helped him.”

“Thank you. Can you read it to me?”

They sat on the couch and started reading, in the beginning Franny just listened but after the first chapter she came a little closer and looked at the pictures as well.

When they finished the second chapter she looked up at him.

“You speak better now. Did your doctor do that?”

“I- I think it just got better.”

“Can we read more later?”

“Sure.”

And with that, she jumped from the couch and ran back out again where Carrie sat rocking Caitlin over her shoulder.

When she saw Quinn re-emerging from the living room she smiled and that smile made him feel warm.

“Want me to take her?”

“No. Just sit with us, here.”

When he sat next to her, she smiled at him again, took his hand and placed a kiss in his palm.

\--------------------

They settled into a kind of routine, without ever talking about it or _them_. Quinn was there when Franny was in school, spent most afternoons with them, left before Franny’s bedtime, often he took Caitlin for a walk then, and came back later in the evening. Many nights he spent with Carrie and their baby, taking turns with taking care for Caitlin and sleeping.

He always left before dawn, after setting the breakfast table.

Carrie never came to his motel. Together, they only existed in her house. 

He often slept a few hours when he came to the motel at dawn, and these were the hours when the nightmares came back with their usual precise horribleness.

Having someone to care about didn't change that, quite the opposite.

Carrie asked him twice to stay when he was about to leave in the morning but he needed those few hours away from it all.

The evenings in Carrie’s room were his favorite time of the day. This was when they were _together_ , talking sometimes, playing with Caitlin, or often just lying on Carrie's bed together. Most evenings ended with Carrie curled up in his arm, falling asleep with her face buried in his shirt.

Sometimes she kissed him, carefully and tenderly. Sometimes less careful. He enjoyed both.

As summer moved into autumn he knew he couldn't prolong dealing with his professional past - and future - any longer.

He’d started therapy sessions a while ago,  
but without being able to talk about some of the things that had happened, those wouldn't lead to any improvement at all.

Sometimes, when his sleep was long and deep enough, he had nightmares when sleeping in Carrie’s bed.

When he came back from _there_ , Carrie was holding him, spooning him from behind, her arms around his waist, her body pressed against his back, her leg around his leg, sheltering him and offering a comfort he hadn't known before.

“I’m here, Quinn, I’m here. Shhhshhh.”

He allowed himself to focus on her presence, the serene quietness of the bedroom, their daughter sleeping in her bassinet just a few yards away, Carrie holding him, and slowly relaxed.

“What happened?”

“You started tossing and turning, and then you called my name.”

“Sorry. I-”

“Don't Quinn, don't be sorry. It is what it is. You’re here now. It's okay.”

Sometimes they talked then. A few bits and pieces. Carrie never asked for more, but she always held him close while he told her where he went in those dreams.

But most nights they just lay still then, Carrie stroking his back or arm until Caitlin woke up or they fell back asleep again.

\---------------

He went up to Langley in early November, meeting Saul. Carrie went with him, carrying Caitlin in the baby sling. Saul was surprised, but not too surprised.

They’d had long discussions about his decision to disclose his return to the US to the agency.

“Carrie, think. How is this supposed to work if we still live here? If you even might go back there one day? If we might bump into someone who knows me at the local grocery store? If we should ever want me in”, he’d paused then for a beat, “Caitlin's paperwork.”

Carrie had looked at him for a long moment then, and then had taken his hand and had reached out to cup his cheek with her other hand, her eyes suddenly moist.

“You’re right,” she’d whispered, “it's just, I- I am afraid I guess.”

She’d insisted on seeing Saul first.

Carrie stayed with Saul when Quinn went to see the new head of the special activities division. He knew she'd promise Saul to come back. She was getting itchy with just being at home. And he understood that. Just for himself, Langley couldn't be his choice anymore.

 

They told Franny in October that he was Caitlin’s Dad. She was very silent for a few days afterwards, and Carrie didn't know if it was the news about Quinn being Caitlin’s Dad or the absence of her father.

Changing his identity, dealing with the aftermath of last winter, and processing out of the agency took time.

He still kept that motel room, but Franny got used to him being around in the evenings too. Once she came back downstairs when Carrie hugged him from behind that very moment, they were in the kitchen, and the little girl smiled a cute sphinx-like smile, helped herself to a glass of water and went upstairs again.

Caitlin still had long bouts of crying every night, like she needed to cry to finish her day, Quinn thought, because usually she fell asleep right after. 

But after a few weeks, she started to sleep longer hours without waking up. 

Her very existence felt still wondrous to Quinn. He could spend hours looking at her or holding here, in silent awe about her perfection and the fact that Carrie had decided to have his baby - their daughter.

Carrie teased him that Caitlin and Franny had him wrapped around their little fingers, he carried Caity a lot, she spent many hours sleeping in his arm almost every night and there was always time for an extra bedtime story for Franny.

“You’re jealous right?”, he asked her one night, playfully with a twinkle in his eyes,  
when Carrie told him that Caity could and should learn to sleep in her bed alone.

They were upstairs in Carrie’s room - or was it _their_ room? - Carrie lay on the bed and Quinn had spent the last hour pacing the room with Caitlin over his shoulder but now she was asleep.

Most nights they stayed upstairs when the girls were asleep, Carrie never got enough sleep anyway and so she needed the rest. It was the one or two hours each day they had together without the children and any other distractions, and most of the nights they just lay together on _their_ bed, enjoying a moment of peace and quietness together.

Often, Quinn sat up after a while, pulled Carrie between his knees and gave her a massage, secretly enjoying this intimate proximity. They shared a bed often now, they kissed - very often - but they'd never spoken about anything else nor had one of them made an attempt to take things further.

 

“Put her in her bassinet and find out”, Carrie smiled back and put her book on the nightstand.

When he placed the sleeping baby in her bed and slowly moved away, Carrie suddenly stood behind him.

“Jealous?”, she murmured, placing a kiss on his cheek and winding an arm around his neck, “No. Just glad to have a moment for just you and me.”

And then she went on the tip of her toes and kissed him, a slow kiss, starting softly, with her lips slightly parted.

Quinn's hand went to the back of her head, supporting her there as he leant in and kissed her back.

Deepening the kiss, Carrie let her hand wander down his back, following the curve of his spine, savouring the moment and - him.

She had no idea if she was ready to move things further again but right now, this here, felt good, very good.

His hand was caressing her back now, she felt his warm touch through the fabric of her shirt, and parted her lips for him, feeling an exciting tingle raising in her tummy.

They didn't stop kissing when Quinn moved backwards, and pulled her down to sit on his lap, she was straddling his legs now, keeping that kiss going, their breathing the only sound in the nightly bedroom.

That - and Caitlin crying again.

“Fuck”, Quinn sighed, “great timing.”

Carrie sighed and kissed him once more, her hands framing his face now but Caitlin was persistent.

So they spent another night with Caitlin lying snug between them, cuddled to her Dad’s chest.

And yet Carrie thought she hadn't been this happy in a very long time.

\------------------

Quinn didn't mention when he was going to see Dar.

But he didn't come back for three days then and Carrie was worried sick. He texted her on the first night that he’d be away for a few days but nothing else.

In her mind she recalled the events of the last days, what they talked about, what she said to him, he was more silent than usual, but on the other hand he often was silent, but whatever she could remember, he didn't say he’d be away for a few days. 

They never actually spoke about about their living arrangements, so Carrie realized then and there she thought he would move in with them _for real_ sooner or later, that it was only a matter of time. And there hadn't been a single day when he did not come back after a few hours.

His absence hurt. Franny asked where he was the first night. Caitlin wasn't sleeping well. She herself was worried. And she missed him. His steady presence in their lives. Seeing him holding Caitlin, talking to her while she rested on his legs and looked up at him, listening to his voice. Watching him and Franny reestablishing their relationship, carefully and hesitantly in the beginning, and then more and more trusting every week. Looking at him and seeing that warmth in his eyes. Reaching out for him during the night and squeezing his hand or feeling his arm wrapped around her shoulder. Talking to him. 

He answered the phone when she called him and Carrie felt anxious and relieved at the same time.

She'd promised herself not to blow off but to listen to him - _there must be a good reason_ , that was her mantra.

He sounded tired, and she didn't know what to say.

“Hey. I- just wanted- you okay?”

She heard him exhaling, and felt horrible.

“Carrie- I- it's just, I need a day or two.”

“Just that?”

“Just that”, his voice was warmer now, “that's all. I’ll be back. In a day or two. I’m sorry.”

“We’re okay. Just-”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing. Let me know when you need anything.”

“Okay Carrie.”

“Quinn? This is- it's not backing out, right?”

“No. It's not. Good night Carrie.”

“Good night.”

It was the first evening in a very long time he got shitfaced. It was fucked up, he was fucked up, _this_ was fucked up. He knew this would have been exactly the situation to go off the rails and let himself draw back into the next mission, away from exploring that major fuck up, just back to _not_ feeling. And he was determined to not let this happen. Which didn't mean he didn't want to just disappear and stop remembering right now.

He was back in the third night, just before midnight. He sat in the armchair next to Caitlin's bed when she woke up for her late night meal.

Carrie watched him raising and scooping Caity up, carefully with his right arm, and then he walked over to the bed and handed her the baby after kissing her forehead, silently sitting down next to Carrie then, a few inches between them.

Carrie waited for a few moments, feeling a visceral relief that he was back, and then reached out for his hand.

She was surprised when he slid closer, wrapped his arm around her and buried his face in her hair, holding her with the drinking baby in her arm.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered above her ear.

Carrie didn’t answer but didn't move away either.

When Caitlin was done, she got up, gently rocked her until she burped and placed the sleeping baby back in her bed then.

Quinn stood behind her, in the middle  
of the room, when she turned back to him and looked at him.

“Want to go downstairs and talk?”, she asked, trying to read his face.

“Not really”, he shrugged, his jaw tight.

“Quinn”, Carrie sighed, turning away from him, feeling tired and exhausted.

“Carrie”, he reached out for her hand,  
interlacing his fingers with hers, and pulled her closer, and she followed reluctantly,  
“not tonight. Please.”

He hesitated for a beat but then she felt his weaker hand on her back, his right hand still holding hers, and when she looked up to him, he bent his head to meet her for a kiss, pulling her closer when she kissed him back.

Carrie felt a few days’ stubble scratching her skin and smelled his shower gel, he tasted of toothpaste, probably had to make an effort to appear here in a presentable state. 

And yet it felt good to have him back again. 

He stayed with her until the early hours of the morning, lying next to her under the blankets, his arm wrapped around her waist.

She’d waited for him the longest time until just a few weeks ago and so she tried to accept that he needed another day or two, and then would speak up about what had happened.

\-----------------

It was in the middle of the next night, they sat on their bed and Quinn was giving her a nightly massage, when he finally told her, his voice low.

“I saw Dar on Monday.”

“Quinn,” Carrie didn't finish her sentence.

“I- there was some un- unfinished business”, his hand went up her nape into her hairline and Carrie sighed when he applied more pressure, “and I needed some information.”

“Did you get what you need? Did he, dunno, _help_?”

Quinn didn't answer for a long moment, his fingers still working their way along Carrie’s nape.

“Yeah, he did. This time.

“What made you stay away?”

_A simple question and almost a lifetime of answers._

“I couldn't bring that here”, he decided for honesty, “this what we have here, what I _hope_ we have, and _all that_... a lot happened… and Dar… and I… I just don't want that here.”

His hand went between Carrie's shoulder blades and paused there when Carrie bent forward, her head resting on her knees now.

“Carrie, there's… there’s a lot of things… I just c-can't talk about. Not because of you. Because it's so fucked up. I’m fucked up. But this… _here_... you and the kids… that you make me part of _this_... “, his voice trailed off.

Carrie had listened silently but now turned around to face him, finding him looking away from her to an invisible spot on the opposite wall.

“I started _working_ ”, his voice was flat now, “with the CIA early. And it's all I ever was.”

“No. It's what you _did_. It's not all you ever _were_. Hey,” she reached out to him, taking his hand in hers, and saw him swallowing, “this, here, this is real. We missed you. I missed you.”

Quinn finally looked at her, his eyes dark, and Carrie reached out for him with her other hand to cup his cheek and then leant in and placed a soft kiss on his lips before she hugged him tightly, relieved when she felt him relaxing into her body and burying his face into the curve of her shoulder.

She held him close, for a long time, hoping it was the right thing to do. Eventually they settled in bed, Quinn's arm around her, Carrie’s head resting on his chest. 

Their hands lay on his abdomen, fingers entwined, and every now and then he felt Carrie slowly caressing the side of his index finger with her thumb.

“Will you need to go their again?”, Carrie finally asked, the least intrusive question she was able to come up with.

“No. I don't think so”, Quinn answered after a while.

“Should you ever-”

“You don't wanna fucking know”, he interrupted her, much sharper than he had aimed for.

He felt how she was trying to move away and sit up, but he didn't let her, closing his arm around her shoulder and holding her there, placing a kiss on top of her head, relieved when she relaxed again.

Shortly after, they settled for the night, and Carrie was deep asleep when he silently got up again, a while later, and sat in the armchair, watching Carrie and Caitlin sleeping.

He held Caitlin in his arm for a long time after she’d cried and sucked away her next meal.

Carrie felt him crawling back into the bed in the early hours of the morning, carefully as not to wake her, and when she turned to spoon him from behind he turned too and sought her mouth for a kiss.

He fell asleep a while later and she decided to let him sleep, even if Franny should accidentally meet him in the morning she wouldn't mind, at least she hoped so.

She sneaked out of the room when Caitlin started to stir at around six, Quinn still deep asleep.

He woke up with a start at almost eleven, finding Carrie and Caitlin sitting in the chair across the room, Carrie making what looked like funny faces for the baby.

“Hey. Good morning. Look, Caity, he’s awake”, she got up and crossed the room to sit with him, holding Caitlin in his direction so he could see her, “c’mon sweet pea, show your Daddy your surprise.”

It was a moment which would stay with him forever, hearing Carrie talking about him as Caitlin’s Dad still got under his skin each and every time, and Caitlin looked at him intently, her eyes bright, blue and wide, recognized him, and then her tiny mouth opened into a gummy grin. 

Carrie looked at him with a huge smile, saw his eyes widening and she knew what he felt, she’d felt the same just a few hours before when she'd gotten her first toothless smile. 

Wonder, love, joy, deeply touched. Proud even. 

Quinn’s eyes rested on their baby’s face as Carrie handed him the little girl and she saw him smiling back in a silent dialogue with their daughter.

“She’s been practicing all morning to surprise you.”

“I can see that.”

Carrie sat next to them, caught his gaze for a moment and then his eyes went back to little Caitlin in her red onesie with white polka dots who was flashing smile after smile, apparently in complete joy about her newly acquired skill.

“She's good at that. Must be your genes.”

“Maybe it's more a nurture thing. Franny smiles a lot with her”, Carrie replied, glad for his light tone.

Caitlin gave another crooked grin and then yawned, stretching a little fist over her head, keeping her eyes closed, sucking on the little finger Quinn offered her.

“That was quick. Smiling seems to be an exhausting business. I get that, baby girl.”

Leaning in, Carrie placed a soft kiss on his scrubby chin, surprised and pleased when Quinn turned his head slightly to kiss the corner of her mouth.

“She's… sometimes I still can't believe she is here”, he muttered against her mouth.

“I know. Same here.”

Carrie wound her arm around Quinn’s shoulder and leant with her head against his upper arm, both of them enjoying that peaceful moment.

“What do you think about coffee in bed?,” and when his eyebrows went up she laughed and went on, “just coffee. For now. And I thought, in the afternoon we set up her crib in her room.”

But then she leant in again, their sleeping baby between them, and the kiss he got was - promising.

Late that night they lay snug in bed again, Quinn spooned Carrie from behind, his arm around her waist.

It had been a good day. One of the best so far. With lots of laughter after Franny came home and tried everything she could to make Caitlin smile again and again. Dinner together, then she chose Quinn for storytime, and then Caitlin had spared them her nightly concert of crying for an hour but had just fallen asleep in her playpen.

Thinking about the last days, the darkness he’d felt again when he’d holed himself up in his motel room after that visit to the prison, and then coming back here, being with Carrie, Franny and Caitlin, he noticed something had changed. 

_This here could be stronger. Maybe already is._

“Can I ask you something?”, Carrie wiggled and turned to face him.

“Sure.”

“You didn't live with your family? As a kid?”

“No”, and then after a beat, “I didn't. Not after the very early years. I don't remember much. Some moments. Foster kid then. Troublemaker. Not many good memories.”

_Which is the understatement of the century._

“And then you-”

“-met Dar. Yes.”

They were silent for a while, Carrie’s hand covering his hand which lay between them. He wondered if she was waiting for him to tell her more but when she spoke again it wasn't about Dar.

“When you look at Caitlin, you think about your son?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

“You didn't fuck it up here. In case that is what you think about.”

Quinn wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to kiss her forehead, and then rolled on his back, pulling Carrie with him to lie on top of him.

His hands went down to her hips, the weaker left stayed there, his right slipped under her shirt, feeling warm skin under the tips of his fingers.

Carrie exhaled and her gentle movement of her hips made him shiver, while he slowly moved his left to cup her ass.

“She’ll be awake soon”, he whispered above Carrie’s ear.

“Too soon”, Carrie sighed, raising her head and meeting him for a kiss, deliberately slow first, making him itch for more.

He felt the tip of tongue tracing his lower lip, making him ache for more, and he sighed when she finally deepened the kiss, multiplying his pleasure with a teasing swing of her hips.

“We need to use the time she’s asleep better”, Carrie muttered against mouth, enjoying his warm hand stroking her back and the feeling of him getting hard against her crotch.

“Your call. I won't say no. God Carrie”, he groaned, both of his hands around her ass now.

They both heard the first sounds emerging from the crib, tried to ignore it - and failed.

With a sigh, Carrie kissed him once more, rolled on her back then and sighed again.

“Why is this kid so fucking reliable in her schedule?”

“Field agents’ baby”, Quinn quipped, raised and adjusted his pants before he went over and scooped her up.

“Hey, little destroyer of pleasure.”

“Quinn.”

“She doesn't understand me.”

“And if she does?”

“Believe me Carrie, she doesn't. Not yet. And, she loves unconditionally.”

 

\----------------

Thanksgiving was close and Carrie wanted Quinn to spend the the day with her family. She just mentioned it once, carefully phrasing it as an open invitation and his choice, leaving him all the space to say no. And he thought that she was right. She had the right to expect him to spend these days with her and her family. And Franny. And Caitlin. 

It was time to offer her that kind of normalcy, whether he or her sister liked it or not.

When they sat down for dinner, Franny told them about her day at school, a long and complicated story about two of her girlfriends and then she asked how long it was until Thanksgiving.

“Next weekend.”

“Are we going to Aunt Maggie’s this year? Last year we didn't go.”

Quinn saw a flicker of sadness in Carrie’s eyes, she briefly looked at him and then addressed her daughter again, forcing herself to smile.

“Yes. This year we’ll be at Aunt Maggie’s.”

“Caitlin's first Thanksgiving. But no turkey for you, turkey is for those with teeth”, she smiled at her sister in her baby rocker next to the table, earning a heartfelt _gah_.

“Are you coming with us?”, she turned her attention to Quinn then, looking at him expectantly.

“As you are inviting me, I guess I’d like to come. So, yes.”

His eyes were on Carrie's face when he answered, and so he saw her smile and it was a good moment. A very good moment. Making Carrie happy with just saying yes.

Franny kept the conversation going over dinner with her sweet chatter and this was good, as the adults at the table weren't very talkative that night.

Later, she sat at the kitchen counter and was drawing when Quinn came back downstairs from putting Caitlin to sleep.

Carrie was putting the dishes and cutlery away, chatting with Franny about buying new winter boots for her the next day.

There was no moment of epiphany, no revelation. It was just that this was his _home_. 

Franny went to bed soon after, and after reading her bedtime story to her, Quinn found Carrie in Caitlin's room, watching the sleeping baby, almost three months old now, in her crib.

He stepped next to her and enveloped her in his arm, holding her close. 

“How did we come so far Quinn?”, she whispered.

“I don't know. But I wouldn't want to change it.”

Like so many other evenings, Carrie ended up leaning against his chest once they walked over to their room, his hand in her hair, giving her a head and shoulder massage, his other arm around her waist. 

She sighed when his fingers worked their way along her shoulder, kneading her signature lump where she always had pain, she had always back pain, and then down her shoulder blade, with a firm touch which made her shiver involuntarily.

His hand worked his way down along her spine, he'd recently started extending his nightly massage along her whole back and Carrie shifted slightly to give him better access.

Her head rested against his collarbone and she placed a soft kiss in the hollow between his shoulder and his neck, inhaling his scent, amused and pleased to feel that it made him shiver.

His hand caressed her side now, slow and gentle, hesitant even.

_Maybe a little encouragement._

She kissed that spot again, her lips slightly parted now, lingering with a little more pressure.

Carrie felt she was holding her breath when his hand moved along her side again and then slowly over to the side of her breast, his touch elusive, giving her time to turn away or say no.

Instead she kissed his neck again, the soft skin below his ear now, and slightly turned to give him better access. 

Quinn took the cue, his hand now caressing the side of her breast, firmer touch now and then slowly covering her breast, cupping it, and brushing his thumb slowly over the oversensitive skin around her nipple.

Carrie almost jolted in his arm.

"Good or bad?", he whispered above her ear.

"Too good", she whispered, her voice not completely stable, and he did it again, more careful this time.

She was just wearing a soft shirt, no bra, and the warmth of his hand was radiating through the fabric, making her long for more.

Quinn slowly skimmed his hand over her breast, covering it with his palm, gentle kneading it, feeling her nipple firm beneath his hand.

"Let me do this for you", he whispered, his voice seemed a little unstable, Carrie thought, and he gently caressed her breast with slow and soft movements.

It felt good. So good.

Every now and then he brushed his thumb over her nipple and it made Carrie shiver each and every time, and the soft moan she made then went right through his core.

His hand wandered under her shirt now and Carrie felt a little hazy, trying to brace herself for feeling his hand on her naked skin again, large and warm and tender.

He took it slow. Soft and slow movements, gentle teasing, slowly calibrating the pressure of his touch, elusive at first and then, a while later, gently kneading her breast while his thumb drew circles around her nipple.

His hand went to the hem of her shirt then, slowly moving it upwards, helping her to undress.

"I want you to enjoy this. We have time. You decide. Tell me what you like and want. Or let me explore", his voice was hoarse and Carrie wondered if he knew how much she enjoyed this, how much she suddenly wanted more of this.

When his right arm encircled her waist again and his hand moved upwards, following her ribcage, and then closed around her breast, starting to fondle and caress her again, Carrie took his left hand in hers and brought it to her left breast, covering his hand with hers, closing her fingers around his and making the movements for him.

The view over her shoulder was irresistible, Carrie in his arms, her eyes closed, her breasts beneath his hands, how she was receiving and enjoying his touch.

Quinn let his good hand travel south, his fingertips grazing over her skin, causing goosebumps to rise and subside again, circling her navel now, her body so receptive to his touch.

"Seduce me", Carrie whispered.

"That's what I intend to", he replied, his voice low, a smile apparent, finally pressing her closer to his crotch.

They took their time, Quinn's hand mapping her curves, following the delicate structure of her bones, abiding when her breathing told him he'd found a particular sensitive spot, cosseting her and trying to make it good for her.

Finally Carrie turned around, looking at him with a bright smile, framing his face with her hands when she leant in to kiss him.

It wasn't one of the sweet short kisses she gave him more and more often. And no kid was asking for their attention now.

 

This was his lover kissing him, sharing her desire with him, parting her lips for him, the tip of her tongue teasing him, and then deepening the kiss while her hands started to unbutton his shirt.

She cast off his shirt from his shoulders and pulled it down his arms, peeling it carefully off his left, without breaking the kiss, her hands stroking his back and shoulders now.

Almost a year ago they'd been together for the first time, and even if they both remembered that night now, this here and now was different. It wasn't a goodbye, it wasn't desperate, it was careful and full of longing and it was a promise.

"I'm not made of glass", Carrie laughed against his lips, pressing herself closer against him.

"God, Carrie", Quinn splayed his good hand on the small of her back, covering the whole width of it, finally pressing her closer against him, and buried his face in the curve between her neck and shoulder, his mouth open on her skin, "I just don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. I am fine. I want this. I want _you_."

Feeling his arousal, apparently fueled by her confession, made her smile and feel a pleasant shiver, and so she said it again, nibbling his earlobe and the shell of his ear.

"I want you, Quinn. Now.”

Her hands went down to the button of his slacks, but she paused when his hand slipped into the back of her yoga pants, grating over the naked skin he found there, moving a little deeper, cupping her ass.

"Fuck Quinn, you make it kinda hard to focus on these buttons."

He laughed, giving her ass a squeeze, burying his face in her hair, and then moved it aside to nuzzle her neck.

"Focus Carrie. I'm the one still recovering."

"But I'm the one with nursing dementia."

Cupping her cheek, he moved her a few inches away from him, and when she looked at him she thought she'd never seen him like this, so open, so _here_ , so uninhibited.

_I do this. Being here, together, does this._

It was a beautiful thought. 

"I love you Carrie. You know that, right?"

Carrie nodded, took his hand to place a kiss in his palm and then raised and slipped out of her pants.

Quinn followed her to the edge of the bed and placed his hands on her hips when she was naked, placing a kiss on the soft curve of her tummy, in silent awe of _her_ , feeling her soft skin under his lips.

Carrie unbuttoned his pants and wrapped her arms around him once he'd stepped out of them.

Kissing and caressing in the darkness of their bedroom, they took the time to explore their bodies anew, and finally Quinn cradled Carrie, lifted her and lowered her on the mattress, his large frame poised over her. His hand went along her thigh, trailing upwards and then down again, moving a little further between her legs with each stroke.

When he finally moved his hand between her legs, softly grazing along her slit, her soft moans were guiding him. He cupped and stroked her, the pad of his finger finding and circling her entrance, arousing her for him, making her wet and open for him. He dipped a finger inside her, in and out again, their breathing and Carrie's soft moans the only sound in their bedroom. 

Slowly increasing the pace and depth of his gentle thrusts, he leant in to envelope her nipple with his mouth, tasting a sweet drop of liquid, feeling her nipple getting hard again under his lips. 

Carrie arched her back and raised her hips, starting to meet his movements, her breathing accelerated now, and when he withdrew his finger she pulled him closer and turned on her side, facing him now.

Her leg went around his hips when he lined himself up against her entrance, and then he slowly entered her, while she met him for a kiss. 

They moved slowly, giving her body time to adjust to his welcome intrusion, his good hand marveling her soft curves, the line of her waist, the valley between her breasts, the curve of her breast.

Quinn let her set the pace, holding himself back, following her movements. She was cradled by his weaker arm, as much skin contact as possible, he felt her nipples against his chest, her hands were around his ass, their breath mingling and she moaned against his lips.

"Quinn. Like this... yeah... don't stop now... like this...", she whispered when she was close, canting her hips faster now, making him pant, pushing down on his hilt, rubbing herself against his abdomen.

"Faster now, God, Quinn..."

She came with a soft whimper, and it was that sound and the sensation of Carrie clenching around him which took him there too, spreading his release deep inside her.

They stayed entangled and close, gently rocking their hips every now and then, enjoying their descent, until he felt himself easing out of her.

Quinn knew he wouldn't go anywhere tonight, just stay until before Franny's wake up time and sneak downstairs then to prepare breakfast.

"That was good", Carrie purred, curling deeper into his embrace, enjoying the feeling of his hand trailing up and down her back.

 

And just then Caitlin started crying, demanding her next meal.

"Great timing", Quinn quipped with a sigh, unknotting himself from Carrie and fishing for his boxers.

"At least she waited until _now_ ," Carrie giggled while rolling on her back and switching on the small night light.

She looked up to him, her eyes locking with his, and he smiled too.

"Quinn? I love you too”, and then her eyes widened and before he could answer, Caitlin was already performing a _crescendo_ next door, “but fuck, we really need to start using condoms.”

 

He raised his eyebrows and Carrie laughed about his shocked expression.

“Could you be pregnant _again_? Now?”

“I could. But it's unlikely. But if we want more of this we should take precautions.”

“I’ll by a giant box first thing tomorrow. But now, little Miss Wolverine first.”

“First things first, of course.”

“The women in my life are a demanding bunch, oh yes”, and with that he finally walked over and scooped Caitlin out of her bassinet.

“Shhhshh, _a leanbh_ , you won't starve within two minutes”, Carrie heard his voice, always amazed that Caity paused for a moment or two when she heard him talking to her.

\--------------------

Thanksgiving wasn't too bad. The food was good, as Carrie had announced before, and with as many kids as adults and two dogs in the house there had always been enough distraction to not feel too misplaced.

Quinn took Caitlin for a long walk in the afternoon so she could sleep and when he came back Franny made him join playing board games. He knew Maggie was watching him, observing his interactions with Franny and Caitlin, and Carrie of course.

So he wasn't surprised when he came back downstairs after they were back home and Carrie sat in the living room, waiting for him after he put the girls to bed.

She'd lit a fire and there was a tumbler with a finger of whisky on the coffee table.

“That's my reward?”, he sat next to her on the couch after carefully closing the door and switching on the baby monitor, and leant back, stretching his aching leg to rest on the table.

“We can talk about your reward”, Carrie handed him the tumbler and curled into his side after kissing the corner of his mouth, “was it that bad?”

“Actually it wasn't.”

“She liked you. Back then. Maggie I mean. After my Dad’s wake. But she was there afterwards too, so-”

“I know. I’m on probation. I can deal with that.”

They fell both silent for a moment, thinking back to that day so many years ago, and about all what happened since then.

“Thank you for doing this today. It was important to me. And Franny.”

“I know. That's why I did it.”

He knocked back his whisky and placed the tumbler back on the table,  
his arm around Carrie's shoulder when he settled back next to her.

“It's,” he paused, searching for the right words, not finding them, but trying once more, “it's good to see you happy.”

“I am,” Carrie answered, looking at him, “I am happy. Right now, this moment, I wouldn't want to trade that for anything.”

She raised and moved into his lap, she was facing him now, her legs straddling him.

He reached out for her and gently swiped a strand of blonde hair behind her ear when she bent down to kiss him, starting slow and sweet, her lips slightly parted, the tip of her tongue exploring his mouth. She deepened the kiss,  
but still kept it deliberately slow, tasting the whisky on his tongue. 

He wanted her. 

She did this to him. Kissing in the living room after a long day, Carrie in his lap, was enough for making him crave for more of her.

And she knew, of course she did.

Without breaking the kiss she reached to the buttons of her blouse and started to open them, cast it away a few moments later, and then her hands went to his shirt, opening button after button while their kiss got more urgent.

She broke away when she opened the last button and slowly moved her hands over his chest, soft long fingers on his skin.

She didn't stop to look at him when he opened her bra, watching him while she slowly peeled the straps from her shoulders and eased the cups away.

“You’re so fucking beautiful Carrie,” he whispered and moved his hand to her breast, cupping it and gently kneading it when she responded with a soft sigh.

But then she raised, got up and stood in front of him, opening the zipper of her pants, shimmying out of them, and standing there only in her underwear. Then she leant down and kissed him again, his hand cupping her ass now, pushing under the thin fabric of her panties. 

Being still more or less dressed while Carrie was naked, for him, her hands swiftly opening his belt and buttons, while she sucked his tongue in a way which made him lose his mind - _God Carrie_.

He raised his hips when he felt her tugging at his pants, she shoved them down, his briefs went with them, and then she pulled the heap of clothes away from his legs, looked up to him, kneeling between his knees now, a smile curling the corners of her mouth when she pulled her hair back in a ponytail, her hands went to his thighs now, she was still looking at him, and his cock was twitching with anticipation.

“Talking about rewards”, she whispered with a bright smile now, and bend her head to go down on him. She kissed his head lightly, flicked the tip of her tongue over it, and then she pulled him in and went all the way down to the root of his cock, tantalizing slow. She looked up to him when he was all the way inside her, her eyes reflected the fire, and then she started moving, his breathing guiding her. She sucked slowly, her head bobbing, taking him deep with every movement she made, her tongue swirling around his head each time she came up.

He knew he wouldn't be able to make this last, so he gave in, not even trying to resist, his right hand tangled into her hair, on the back of her head now, guiding her to the right pace and pressure, the view adding to his frenzy - Carrie sucking his cock, her skin shining in the warm light, his cock in her mouth, her eyes bright when she looked up to him, hollowed cheeks and all, his hand directing her.

His orgasm coiled up at the base of his spine, and he came when she took him in deep once more, her eyes locked with his, his cock thrusting against the back of her throat, feeling her vibrating around him, hot and wet and so good, _Carrie, my God, Carrie_.

She went down on him once more, knowing he was _there_ , took him in deep, his hips bucked, he was craving for more of her, just her, thrusting into her mouth once more, dissolving into pleasure as his orgasm took him, shooting into her mouth, his vision his fading to black for a long moment, and she didn't stop, slower now but still so fucking good, he felt her around him, swallowing and sucking,  
her tongue swirling around the head once more, he gently pushed her deeper once more, and then once more again, not wanting this to stop. Carrie stayed with him until the end, guiding him through the last waves of his orgasm, listening to his breathing calming back down, her hands caressing his thighs and abdomen, his fingers now loosely entangled with her hair.

Finally she climbed into his lap again, leaning into him, and kissed him languorously, he tasted himself on her tongue and splayed his hands on her back, holding her and caressing her.

“No words right now”, he whispered, his voice still hoarse, and it was true, he didn't have the words to express what this and they meant to him.

“I know. No need for words.”

His hand started to map her curves, softer now, he liked that, and feeling the damp fabric of her underwear against his now flaccid cock made him shiver. Knowing that simply doing this for him aroused her and made her want more was erotic as hell, and he took pleasure from the thought of doing the same for her. Making her come, listening to her breathing getting ragged, making her want him.

He made her get up, and when Carrie stood in front of him, he kissed her abdomen, his tongue exploring the skin around her navel while he eased her underwear down. The suture was still red and tender, and the knowledge of what Carrie had suffered through for many months alone this year brought up a terrible tenderness in him each and every time he recalled those months.

Cupping her ass he let his mouth trail upwards, his pressure against her buttocks making her step a little closer, right where he wanted her.

Kissing the valley between her breasts, his hand went between her legs, making her widen her stance for him a little for better access.

Just one finger, trailing along her slit, making her breathe deeper, and then he lapped his tongue around her nipple, adding a second finger to slowly stroke her entrance.

Carrie’s knees were getting weak, his tongue and mouth stimulating her nipple, her other breast now, her hands in his hair, holding him there, while his fingers slowly massaged her, just a few millimeters left and right of her centre, close but not close enough.

Quinn breathed a laugh against her skin, breaking her away from spoiling her, his hand stopped doing its wonder and then he pushed himself into a standing position, used his superiority to direct her to make a step backwards, sealing her mouth with a kiss.

“Lie down”, he whispered, holding her hand now, when Carrie felt the edge of the coffee table against the back of her knees.

Remote control, books and magazines were gone with one swift movement, she felt the rough surface of the wood against the skin of her back, Quinn poised over her and then he went down on his knees and parted her legs.

He started slowly, his tongue trailing the length of her slit, his hands holding her hips in place, hearing her breathing getting faster when his tongue found her clit. He had her close with just a few laps but went to a deliberately slow pace then, just a teasing touch every now and then, not enough, absolutely not enough and yet so heartbreakingly good.

Her hips were surging, trying to raise, but he held her there, pressed to the surface of the table, her hands went into his hair then, guiding him closer again, she felt him chuckle, and then he finally returned to giving her what she was craving for, a long finger, then a second one, slowly pushing into her passage, slowly fucking her, while his lips closed around her clit, sucking and licking, her whimpers telling him that this was _exactly_ right.

Her hands were pulling his hair shy of painful, the sounds she made were driving him crazy with lust, longing and the need to please her.

Carrie heard herself moaning his name when he took her over the edge, fingers and tongue stimulating her, deeper and faster now. A sharp pleasure rushed through her core, her body bucked as her orgasm radiated through her and she felt him holding her, his fingers plunging deeper, staying with her and his tongue flicked over her clit again and she didn't want this to stop, didn't want him to stop.

She wrapped her legs around him and he kissed her again, softer now, feeling her clenching around his fingers again, and then her hands let go of his hair. They sank back on the table and when he sat up and looked down on her, he couldn't help it but had to smile. She was a sweet mess, and he could eat her up.

He offered her a hand and helped her to get up, cradling her in his arms once she was standing, noticing her knees being unstable.

They sank down on the couch together, lying wrapped around each other, Carrie’s mouth searching his for a kiss, his hands mapping her body, covering as much skin as possible.

She laughed against his lips when she felt him getting hard against hip, a wonderful sound, full of life.

“More?,” she whispered when she slightly turned and pressed herself against him.

She felt him nodding, his mouth at her neck now, nuzzling the delicate skin there while her hand fished for a small box under the pillow.

Quinn broke away and looked at her, surprised.

“Where do these come from?”

“I bought them”, Carrie chuckled while tearing up the box of condoms.

“And hid them here?”, he sounded incredulous.

“Oh, there's another box in our bedroom. And one in the kitchen cabinet.”

“So we intend to try and find them all tonight”, he chuckled, “or just these here?”

“Let's start with these”, her hands were busy to roll the condom down on his cock, “and then we’ll see what's next”, and then she guided him towards her entrance, moaning with pleasure when he slowly pushed into her.

They went for slow and tender, indolent even, lying on their sides, his eyes locked with hers, her leg wrapped around his hips.

He was deep inside her, didn't move out of her, just gentle thrusts and small range, her hands framing his face while they kissed.

He stilled when he felt himself getting closer, wanting to give her time to get there to and go with him, just a deliberate thrust every now and then, slow and so good.

He whispered in her ear what she meant to him, what _this_ meant to him, for once he didn't have to search for the right words, they just came, and it amazed him how this was arousing her, how her body came back to life and how she shimmied her hips in a mind boggling way, her breathing coming faster now and her hands were around his ass, guiding his rhythm, still languorous and deep.

He came when Carrie started rocking her hips with short and quick movements, his mouth pressed against her neck, tasting the soft sheen of sweat on her skin, salty and erotic as hell.

Hearing him coming apart got Carrie there too, upping their pace and whimpering incoherent sounds with his name, her hands clenching to his shoulders now.

“I got you, baby. You're fine. I got you. God, Carrie”, his voice was low, just above her ear, his arms wrapped around her now, holding her tight while he still moved inside her every now and then, extending those pleasurable jolts and guiding them both through their descent.

When he finally eased out of her and got rid of the condom, he looked down on her, she was a sweet mess, hair tousled, her eyes closed, her hand searching for his.

He cupped her cheek with a tender gesture, hoping she wasn't falling asleep yet and wishing he could just carry her.

“C’mon, let's go upstairs and sleep there.”

He secured the fire, scooped up the heap of clothes, and then they sneaked upstairs, careful not to awake the kids too early.

Upstairs in their bedroom Carrie slipped into a shirt and curled up on their bed and Quinn lied down to spoon her from behind, his good arm around her waist in a possessive gesture.

“Stay?”

“Yeah. If that's what you want.”

“I do. Happy Thanksgiving Quinn.”

He placed a kiss on her shoulder, and then she drifted off and he held her close, listening to her breathing, now calm and regular until he finally fell asleep as well.

 

 

 

‘

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Sydney for speed-editing and everything else.
> 
> I promised to keep writing as long as people keep reading - so what's next?

**Author's Note:**

> The secret train station is real and still exists, albeit it's located under the Waldorf Astoria. Reportedly it has been used by Roosevelt during his campaign for his fourth presidency. 
> 
> Some more stories about it and fascinating photos are here: 
> 
> https://www.google.de/amp/s/amp.cnn.com/cnn/2015/12/07/travel/in-24-hours-new-york-train-track/index.html
> 
> http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1358385/Rusting-deep-Grand-Central-station-armoured-train-helped-heroic-President-Roosevelt-polio-secret.html
> 
>  
> 
> I wanted to use that train station in a fic for a very long time and then a few nights ago this story unfolded in my head. Laure and Zeffy were - as always - great sounding boards for all the ideas I had and I kept them awake far too long that night because I was so excited and couldn't stop plotting, drafting and writing and sharing my excitement. Initially I thought about a oneshot but - you know me - now I have a 4 chapter draft. So more is coming soon.


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